I'll take you home again, Kathleen
by vanhunks
Summary: Finale - Chapter 7. A/N contained in start of Ch. 1. SUMMARY: When Voyager is hit by a temporal shift, Kathryn Janeway collapses and ceases to exist. Chakotay leads an away team who travel to the past to correct the Janeway timeline. Two pairings here: Janeway/Chakotay, and Edward Janeway/Kathleen O'Clair.
1. Chapter 1

_**I'll take you home again, Kathleen**_

**a story by**

**vanhunks**

Rating

**[PG-13]**

Disclaimer

The characters Janeway, Chakotay and other crew/characters on Voyager mentioned at any time during the run of the TV series, as well as the good ship Voyager, belong to Paramount/Viacom. No copyright infringement was intended.

The characters Kathleen O'Clair, Thomas Kiernan, Justin Riley, Katie's parents, Liam and Eileen O'Clair, as well as Michael Sullivan (same name, but different character) are original characters created by the author.

**Code**

**Janeway/Chakotay**

**Janeway/O'Clair**

Acknowledgements

**Mary Stark, **

for her editing of this story, for making time in her busy schedule to take on this project. The many 'nitpicks' (Mary's words!) were necessary to give this work a more rounded, smooth appearance. My gracious thanks to this wonderful person.

**Kat Lady, **

for her great insight into the history of Ireland. I leaned on her many times in online discussion, giving valuable information on aspects like education, transportation, social life. She prompted my own online research and the wealth of information was just so much. I could only represent a fraction of it in the story. I hope that I have not let her down. After all, I'm a rookie writing about her heimat.

**Sheila - Muse. **

**Author's Note**

This story was written for the Voyager Talent Nights "Janeway Factor" time travel contest. I started this project in April. I had just watched the film "Timeline" and as it happened, Talent Nights was running a contest that involved time travel. I had in mind a certain idea which I must acknowledge here, was inspired by both the film and the contest theme.

I have used the variant of O'Clair in my story, although O'Clare is used in the episode "Fairhaven". Since there are most times variants of the spelling of names and surnames, I decided on O'Clair, since the parts of the story involving this family are original. I beg your indulgence in this instance and hope that you will be taken by the power of the story.

Other notes will be given at the end of the story.

**Summary**

When Voyager is hit by a temporal shift, Kathryn Janeway collapses and ceases to exist. Chakotay leads an away team who travel to the past to correct the wrong.

CHAPTER 1

The ship cruised with effortless ease through the murky black night, the low purring of her engines hardly audible above the sounds of normalcy on the bridge. Harry Kim snickered at Tom's quip about Voyager doing a triple jump over the stars. Magnus Rollins cleared his throat. In a second, Chakotay knew, it was going to be followed by a little cough. It always happened when Rollins was tired and due to go off duty within fifteen minutes. Chakotay turned to look at the Tactical officer who grinned sheepishly at him and shrugged. Magnus had always impressed him as a very capable officer, quietly going about his duties without ever complaining. True Starfleet, Magnus had always displayed great composure, something Chakotay knew got him the tag of being unfeeling. How could they know that Magnus missed his son and daughter just like everyone else missed their loved ones? His wife had died during their third year in the Delta Quadrant and the children were being raised by their grandmother. An evening on the holodeck in which Magnus had spoken long and openheartedly with him, made Chakotay realise that he was a man with heart. A little older than most of the crew, Magnus presented stability. Many crewmembers had also approached the quiet officer for counselling.

Tom Paris was now humming a tune, the same tune he had hummed for the last two hours. Tom

suffered from "persistent memory recall of a hopeless tune", a definition he'd quickly produced three weeks ago when he hummed a melody he called "Sentimental Journey". It was B'Elanna who had elbowed him fiercely in the side that time in the mess hall, making Tom hiccough first before he sputtered to a halt. Now he was at it again. Earlier B'Elanna, who had been at her station to the right of Tom, had growled at him in irritation but he had merely blown her a kiss.

Kathryn had seen it and promptly reminded Tom to keep his eye on the road and both hands on the steering wheel. Some laughter had gone up and after that, it had been the occasional short exchange of small talk, interspersed occasionally with confirmation on telemetries and sensor data. After their run-in with hostile races the last few months, their worst engagement being against three Orend vessels of Sector 2543, leaving Voyager depleted and needing three weeks of repairs, it was a balm to frayed nerves to be cruising at low warp and enjoying the peace of benign space.

The sounds on the bridge, the atmosphere of quiet efficiency in the midst of light banter, the ability to go to red alert in an instant and be ready for any attack, left Chakotay pondering on their journey and their lives on board the ship. He glanced quickly at Kathryn. She looked rested, relaxed, thoughtful as she kept her gaze on the main viewscreen. Her elbow was braced on the armrest with her chin on her palm. He knew that pose well; it was Kathryn at peace with herself and the world around her. Two fingers - index and middle finger - would press gently against her temple, an indication that she was deep in thought. Her hair gleamed in the light bathing the entire bridge. It curled softly into her neck. She had kept it like that since the fourth year of their journey and he remembered feeling disappointed that she had cut it. She sensed he was looking at her. Her mouth had curved into a smile when she felt his eyes on her and a quiver of pleasure shot through him. He had already resumed his view of the dark night in front of them, but now it was he who felt her smile and the silent golden thread that connected them.

He was happy, because Kathryn's happiness was so palpable, so infectious and it meant so much to him to see her in this mood. He looked around him at the other officers and smiled to himself. They were affected by her inner peace as much as he was. It was true, whoever philosophised that a leader's peace established a similar equilibrium among her subordinates. Kathryn's free hand reached for him. Although he didn't steal another glance or see her move, he felt the action - perhaps the whisper of a waft of air so insignificant that another might never have noticed, but he felt it. He prepared to receive the touch of her hand, his eyes closing as they made contact. The caress was brief, a feather that drifted silently to balance on the back of his hand before somehow, it lifted away of its own volition and hovered between them.

Kathryn's voice drifted to him, low and husky.

"Shall I remind you that we have a very important date tonight, Commander?" There was mirth and anticipation in her voice, though he heard as well the underlying apprehension. He smiled to himself again. Kathryn could no more hide from him than he could from her.

"How can I forget? 1900, holodeck, New Earth. I can hardly wait..."

"Don't you dare be late," she responded, sounding relieved.

"You make me sound like the March hare, Captain."

She graced him with a warm smile. There was a long, but easy silence between them before he turned to look at her, feeling again the strange, heavy, burning sensation in his chest. This time Kathryn, oblivious of the officers who were watching them, raised her hand to touch his cheek. He wanted her palm to linger and have its warmth spread into his face.

"Take me home, Chakotay," she whispered.

"I will, my Kathleen..."

Kathryn smiled in remembrance of the beautiful melody. He had played it for her in his quarters the previous evening, knowing how she liked it. Her hand dropped away from his cheek and she resumed her pose of earlier. There was a hammering in his chest, and he took a few deep breaths to slow down the mad racing of his heart.

He fell into reflection again, thinking about the last week when so many things had changed between them. Before that, relations between them had been strained, as they had been for more than seven years. No matter how much they both desired to take their association to another, more personal level and one deeper than their already close friendship, their observance of protocol was always there, albeit unspoken. Kathryn had waved the Federation flag in front of him too many times even when they had come very close to blurting their true feelings for one another. She had made the protocol handbook her Bible and kept them on the straight, if rocky road, for home. On one or two occasions, she had acknowledged that it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain detached from him, and that had been a small concession, a victory, if he thought about it. It meant that Kathryn had moved beyond denying the inevitable pull between them.

It wasn't so much that she had consciously decided to throw the protocol handbook into the proverbial fire. Yet, what had happened a week ago could easily have been just such a case. He liked to think that it had been more gradual, that her need for him, or for human, personal and intimate contact, could no longer be denied but integrated into her conscious as an equal partner to her military obligations.

He had always loved her. Once he had acknowledged his attraction to her, he had made it a part of him, and even though it had, of necessity, remained inside him as a sublimated torch song, it was always there. He was willing to wait, for Kathryn Janeway was not to be hurried. She was a scientist, with a scientist's inclination for logical thinking and arriving at solutions through careful and rational thought processes.

They had been in her quarters going over endless reports pertaining to damage control and repairs, working out new duty rosters, stock-taking. He had been tired; it was late and he needed a shower badly. He hadn't noticed that Kathryn had become quiet, because he had been so busy studying the mountain of PADDs they had to plough through. They had kept up an easy conversation throughout, stopping briefly for a coffee break, then continued again. It was only when he felt her eyes on him that he looked up and realised with a pang that she had probably been staring at him for a while.

There was a look in her eyes. Funny how, when he could think about it now, he had never questioned her, never showed surprise, never thought that anything might be bothering her. As instinctively as he had always known when his father would appear in his vision quests, he had known that Kathryn had made up her mind about something. It was something monumental, something that included him as part of the new resolve that sprang from that look. That was the word he had searched for that evening. Resolve. Intention, firmly decided after long deliberation to which there could only be one conclusion. Before his eyes, Kathryn Janeway peeled away the layers of protocol that held her prisoner for so long. Before his eyes, he saw how her face began to glow and her eyes take on a new, if unaccustomed, shine.

"I love you, Chakotay."

Elation, wild as the mustangs that roamed over an endless green landscape, gripped him, keeping him motionless, before it settled in him at last. He experienced it as another flash in which he saw the mustangs come to rest, standing quite still in a field of tall grass. All he could do in those heady moments after her admission was cup her cheek with his palm, draw her face nearer to his and press his lips against her forehead. The only sign then that she was deeply moved by his gesture was the way her tears burned and trailed hotly over his hand.

There had been few words after that. The moment was too full, too heavy with the richness of their feelings, too hallowed to spoil it with incoherent murmurings of affection. That would come, for there would be a lifetime of affirmation. He had lifted Kathryn into his arms and she had clung to him, burying her face in his neck as he carried her to her bedroom. He had understood her unspoken request. So he held her hand minutes later as she lay in bed and waited until her eyes drooped and she lost the fight against sleep before he left. Time had stood still and time had moved on. In those seemingly endless minutes, with no words spoken between them, he had known that Kathryn wanted to wait before they consummated their union.

Chakotay glanced at her again. He was ready for their date tonight. It was to be a life-altering moment for them. They would be together forever, not just as captain and first officer, but as life mates.

He was roused from his reverie when Tom Paris's voice sounded up.

"And there she is - Ankares IV..."

On the viewscreen they could see the planet, covered with swirling clouds, almost as blue as Earth. There was a ripple of excitement moving around the bridge. They had been longing for a place to unwind, and it looked to him as if they found one. The crew was coming down with severe cabin fever and only the ceremony later in the evening during early gamma shift could offer relief. They were itching to walk on soil again. But they had also learned never to take a planet at face value. They'd had a few very close scrapes in the past with apparently friendly worlds.

Chakotay rose from his chair and stepped down to stand just behind Tom. All eyes were on the main viewscreen. The planet appeared stark and aloof. Harry's words broke through the ripples and low exclamations of excitement.

"M-class planet, Commander, with dilithium on its third moon. Rich in natural resources... It appears there are thousands of hot springs." Harry emphasized the last words and Tom Paris turned to look at his friend.

"Sounds too good to be true," someone said.

"Hot springs, huh? Remember what happened at the last hot spring, Harry?" asked Tom.

"It was silver blood, Tom. We duplicated ourselves."

" 's what I mean - "

"But you won't pass this one up. Think about it: all day in the sun, soaking up the...healing properties of hot spring water, a girl by your side - "

"Make that two, Harry. I'm going nowhere without both my girls... Right, B'Elanna?"

"Yeah, Helmboy. Just don't drown Miral."

"But, Harry, are you thinking of taking the twins - "

"And we could all do with some shore leave, Commander," Neelix piped up, breaking up the fight between Tom and Harry.

The little Talaxian, ebullient as always, had just appeared on the bridge and Chakotay turned to face him. Neelix rubbed his whiskers and Chakotay couldn't hide his smile at Neelix's habit. Today everything about Neelix was yellow. His hair, his skin, his eyes, his whiskers, and his dress statement would have made the President of the Federation run a mile from him. A patterned yellow knee-length jacket that covered his patterned yellow trousers. Only Neelix's boots broke the sunshine effect. Chakotay caught Kathryn's eyes. She had remained seated, her arms resting on her chair, her pose relaxed and her grin infectious. She nodded, a sign that he could investigate Ankares IV as a much needed pit stop.

"Well, Rollins?"

"All clear, Commander. The Ankarens are highly developed. Like the Klingons, they have cloaking technology but they're a peace faring race. Mr Neelix has already established that the Ankarens are willing to trade and that Seven of Nine would benefit from their up-to-date star charts." Rollins grinned, then cleared his throat. "I do believe the children of Voyager will enjoy the planet's _Young Life Enrichment Facility_ - "

"The amusement parks," Tom said by way of explanation.

"Aye, Mr Paris. Amusement Parks."

Magnus coughed as he finished. He had overstayed his duty shift, and Chakotay noticed that Ayala was standing next to him, waiting to take over.

This time, Kathryn got up and stood next to Chakotay.

"I could do with some time off, Commander," she said, her tone low. "We haven't had much luck meeting friendly races the last two months. A good thing we picked this planet up on our long range sensors. If it weren't for that rogue trader we met months ago along the Sparovian Passage, we might have missed it..."

"Yes...we were on another course," he agreed.

"Well, it was nothing that we couldn't handle," she said. "I have the ablest crew I could have asked for to bring us through the last two months of hell. Now, we can enjoy a bit of..." Kathryn looked at Neelix, turned to face him again, "sunshine on Ankares IV."

He could feel the eyes of the bridge crew on them, but it didn't disturb him like it had in the beginning, when he had been extra wary of standing too close to Kathryn, or looking at her a tad too long. Now, they were all comfortable with their command team displaying affection. Kathryn's hand had been on his shoulder and she had made no attempt to drop it as she had done so often in the past. It hadn't been easy in the beginning when they had observed too much protocol. By their estimation, they'd be home in 22 years. That was too long a time not to form any kind of attachment. Some of the crew had already married, and there were now three babies on board.

"Agreed. If we have to navigate Voyager through ten evil nebulas again, I'll go mad."

"Tom," Kathryn asked, moving to stand behind him, "how long before we reach Ankares of the cloaking technology, hot springs, amusement parks and three moons?"

"Three days, Captain, at warp six."

"Then warp six it is. Lay in a course for Ankares IV."

There was a collective sigh that went up as Kathryn gave the order. Harry looked relieved while Magnus appeared as inscrutable as Tuvok.

Kathryn turned and walked to her chair. Chakotay followed, catching her as she stumbled. When she was seated, he leaned towards her.

"Is something the matter?" he asked, somewhat concerned.

She shook her head.

"No...it's nothing, I guess."

At that moment Voyager lurched imperceptibly, although hardly noticeable. He felt something go through him, as if they were being scanned by the Borg or a ghost breathed on him. Looking quickly at the others, he noticed that they too were somewhat surprised.

"Harry?"

"Commander, I cannot detect anything on long range sensors - "

"And nothing is coming from Ankares IV, Commander," added Lieutenant Rollins, now on the alert. "There's...nothing."

"Kathryn...?" Chakotay asked as he saw how pale she had become. She touched her face, looking strangely at him.

"It's just something, like a glow of warmth that spread through me, Chakotay."

"We all felt it. Maybe just a shift - "

"Captain," came Rollins's voice, "it may be a temporal shift, but only extremely minimal. It may be just this area of space. I detect a time differential of two seconds."

Chakotay nodded. Kathryn seemed to have regained her composure. She got up and walked to Rollins's station, where he and Ayala were intently studying the new data. Chakotay watched her move towards Rollins. Then she stumbled again. He followed her quickly, holding her so that she wouldn't fall.

"Something's wrong. You're not well, Kathryn. Perhaps you should go to sickbay, or lie down in your quarters - "

"No! No... I'll be fine," Kathryn said, but he could see her eyes were dark and confused. Ayala smiled as he moved to make way for her. She looked at the monitor. "It's only a slight shift," she said, frowning as she gave a little shudder. "Two seconds... Not enough to worry unduly, but I agree that we should hightail it out of here."

Chakotay couldn't hide his concern as Kathryn came to sit down again, sagging back in her chair. She looked suddenly exhausted.

"Kathryn..."

"It's nothing, Chakotay. Don't be such a worry - "

The next moment, Kathryn's eyes grew wide; she gave a little cry of pain, then suddenly choked and gasped for breath. As she clutched at her bosom, her face contracted with pain. She looked at him, her eyes filled with confusion and desperation. Before he could even touch her she slid out of her chair and slumped to the floor.

"Captain?" cried Neelix, who had been standing on the platform behind them.

"Kathryn!"

Chakotay hit his commbadge.

"Chakotay to the doctor. Beam the Captain directly to sickbay."

At the moment that he wanted to lift and pull her into his arms, Kathryn, as white as a sheet, gave a deep convulsion. A second later, she dematerialised in the transporter beam.

The senior officers looked too stunned to speak as he moved swiftly to the turbolift, nodding to Rollins to take over the bridge as the turbolift swallowed him and carried him to deck six.

Chakotay stormed through the sickbay doors. Kathryn lay on the main biobed with a worried EMH bending over her. All the way from the bridge, he had been terrified that something unknown had struck Kathryn. Her expression of total confusion was burned into his brain. She couldn't possibly have been languishing with a cold or flu or a strange Delta Quadrant affliction. She had been healthy as a horse. He would have known if she had been coming down with something; she had been as surprised as he had been.

What had happened was totally unexpected.

"Doctor...?"

Chakotay moved quickly to the bed where Kathryn looked as pale as death. He touched her cheek and almost jumped back from shock. She felt ice-cold.

The EMH looked up briefly, before hastily running more scans.

"Commander, the Captain's lungs have collapsed. Not only that..." He looked up again, baffled. "It's gone, Commander. I'm keeping her on artificial respiration. But..."

"But what, Doctor?"

"I don't know how - "

"What, Doctor?" Chakotay bit out, knowing he sounded too blunt, too shocked to see Kathryn like this.

"Commander, I'm going to replicate a pair of lungs - " At that moment the sickbay doors opened again and Tom Paris hurried towards them. "Mr Paris, we have an intricate procedure to perform."

"Understood, Doc," Tom replied, instantly on the alert as he took over from the doctor.

"What the hell is happening to her, Doctor?" Chakotay asked again.

"I can't pinpoint anything at the moment, Commander, except that her lungs have disappeared over a period of 90 seconds. I have to stabilise her first before I can do anything else - "

"Then do it quickly, Doc. She looks very ill..." His voice trailed. Kathryn looked dead to him, although he could see how her bosom rose and fell. But that was artificial. The respirator was responsible, replacing her lungs that had gone...where?

"Vidiians?"

"We're long out of Vidiian space, Commander," Tom replied quickly as he prepared Kathryn for the transplant. "And they're not likely to be responsible anyway."

Chakotay nodded. His mind was in a whirl and he was ready to blame anything. He was afraid to touch Kathryn again, for fear he would feel the same coldness. He didn't want that disappointment. Somewhere, her words came to him, words she had spoken only four nights ago.

_It's very liberating, you know...that I can lie in your arms like this. One day, when we get home, we must visit Ireland._

_Why Ireland, Kathryn?_

_It's where it all started, I guess. We all have roots. I'm proud of mine..._

_Then I'll take you home again, my love._

Minutes later Kathryn had played the melody for him, and he heard the haunting strains fill his cabin. Kathryn had smiled.

_Hey, that's a beautiful melody..._

_In four days' time, it will be our day, Chakotay. I am your Kathleen..._

The Doctor's voice, sounding like a screeching owl, drove away his memories of that conversation with Kathryn.

"Ready, Mr Paris?"

"On your mark, Doc."

The next moment a small blue beam swished around Kathryn. The instant her new lungs functioned, she gave a huge gulp. Her bosom heaved once, then she sagged back on the bed.

"Kathryn...open your eyes...please," Chakotay pleaded softly when Kathryn's eyes remained closed.

"Commander..."

"Come on, Kathryn. We have a ship to take home, you hear me?"

"Commander, please..."

Kathryn groaned softly. Chakotay's heart hammered as he waited for her to make any movement indicating she heard him. Slowly she opened her eyes, turning her head in the direction of his voice. Her eyes appeared glazed, but he thought she recognised him.

"Chakotay...what's wrong with me?" she whispered, her breath again raspy, pained and short.

"I - I don't know, Kathryn. The Doctor has fixed you up - "

"Fix me up? H-how?"

"Captain," the doctor began as he moved so that she could see him, "your lungs collapsed, then disintegrated. I've replicated lungs. You are breathing with new lungs, Captain."

Kathryn raised her hand, but she was so weak that it fell back again. Chakotay took her hand in his.

"We don't know what has happened Kathryn, but we'll find out soon, okay?"

Kathryn frowned again, her gaze locked on him; her eyeballs moved as she fixed on his face, his hands, his chest, hair, tattoo. Then, as if too tired to keep looking, her eyes fell closed again.

"Kathryn!"

"I feel disembodied, Chakotay, as if - "

"Spirits, Doctor, do something!"

"I'm h-here, and not here..." Kathryn murmured, her voice becoming more and more feeble, drifting away helplessly. He saw a tear squeeze out and roll down her cheek. "P-pain..."

The doctor hurried to her side.

"Captain, please, you must not move. You've been through a difficult procedure and we've just managed to stabilise you..."

"Why do I feel as if I'm not here?"

Tom, who had been at the monitor, gave a little gasp.

"Doc, look here..."

The EMH hurried over to where Tom stood. Chakotay rubbed the back of Kathryn's ice-cold hand. Her face contracted once, twice; another tear rolled down. He was powerless and it ate into him.

"Kathryn, we'll have you out of sickbay in no time. Then we'll have our very important date tonight..."

"What date, Chakotay?" Kathryn asked.

Didn't she remember? He strained to hear her for her voice was almost completely gone. It wasn't a whisper, just that her voice...deleted itself...

"You remember, Kathryn? You promised to marry me, tonight?"

"We are to be married?" came the almost disembodied voice of Kathryn. Chakotay thought the voice hovered above his head, like a spirit trying to find a connection to the real world. His heart sank. She could hardly hear him. He wanted to scream, but realised he had to control his emotions, already too difficult to keep in check. Kathryn was leaving him, and she was leaving him behind...

"Yes, we're getting married tonight."

"Did I say that?"

The fear came and tore his insides, filling him with intense dread. He was going to burst soon, and his fear was going to touch her. Kathryn's eyes remained closed, her face so pallid as to resemble a white withering rose. Kathryn didn't remember their conversations, or her promise to marry him. They had wanted to wait a week, for Kathryn needed to clothe herself in her new freedom and enjoy him as her beloved and not yet as her lover. Tonight would have been their wedding night.

"Yes, Kathryn," he sighed, feeling very close to tears. "You said that..."

"I'm afraid I don't remember..." She was silent for a moment, then, "Chakotay...?"

"Yes, Kathryn?"

"Where am I?"

"In sickbay."

She opened her eyes this time, the effort so laborious that he wished she hadn't tried.

"Sickbay...where?"

He turned ice-cold.

"On Voyager."

"Voyager? A ship?"

Covering her hand, he pressed his forehead against her bosom. Kathryn's memory was slowly fading. He wondered suddenly if she knew she was the Captain of Voyager. Kathryn gave another shudder.

"Do - do you remember me?" he asked.

"Who are you...?"

"Kathryn!"

Then she quietly slipped into unsconsciousness again. Tom and the Doctor joined him.

"She's dying...I can feel it. And I don't know why... It's something, a mystery," he murmured as he touched Kathryn's cold cheek.

"Commander, I'm afraid the prognosis isn't good. We're keeping the Captain alive through artificial means. Mr Paris?"

Tom stepped up so that he faced Chakotay.

"The replicated lungs are also disappearing, Commander. So are the rest of her vital organs. I'm sorry..."

"What?"

"I'm capturing the Captain's remaining synapses, masking them so that the rate of disintegration will be delayed. Most of her memories have corroded, but what we have we can work with until we can clear up the mystery..."

Chakotay rose to his feet, too agitated to speak. He grabbed Paris and shook him hard. Tom's hands gripped his own as he pushed Chakotay away from him. Paris looked flushed and distressed.

"I'm afraid, Commander, that not only are her vital organs gone now, but look at this..."

He pressed a panel and the dome slid down. Chakotay's eyes widened and he gave a loud cry of dismay. Even as he looked, Kathryn's feet were disappearing, the fading creeping up along the rest of her body.

"Spirits... Kathryn!"

"We're setting up a medi-bay in the holodeck, Commander," the doctor said evenly as he raised the dome again. He took Chakotay by the shoulders and turned him away from the stricken Captain.

"No! Leave the dome down! I must see her! Kathryn, don't leave, for God's sake. Don't leave!"

"Mr Paris..."

"I'm already on it, Doc. In two minutes holodeck 1 will be ready."

Chakotay stared aghast as the rest of Kathryn's body quietly disappeared from the biobed.

There was a shocked silence. Then,

"Kathryn?" he called feebly. "Kathryn?"

"The captain remains in a...critical condition," Chakotay's voice sounded during the ship-wide communication, "but we are still heading for Ankares IV. We hope to have her back with us very soon. In the meantime you are to resume your normal duties. Chakotay out." He had hoped he could keep his voice even, but the slight faltering when he mentioned 'critical' was his undoing.

It was the best he could do in the circumstances without alarming the crew too much. He couldn't tell them Kathryn was dead. She was gone, vanished like a phantom. Did that constitute being dead? Was Kathryn gone from them forever? He gave a violent shudder, unwilling to entertain that vile and unhappy thought further.

The holodeck looked empty, impersonal. Chakotay stood in the middle, away from the bed on which the holographic Kathryn Janeway lay. Tom had set up the medi-bay here, where at least Kathryn's remaining active synapses could be protected and masked until they found out what had happened to her. The Doctor had been swift in his reaction to suggest a hologram of Kathryn. His words that they might need it until the real Kathryn could be cured, sounded like an evil portent. Was he ever going to see her again? Was this form of Kathryn to be her fate forever?

It distressed him to see her like this. Her last sensations before she faded away completely were that she felt she wasn't present among them; she was disembodied and didn't remember Voyager, or him. She had sounded afraid, and he had almost never seen Kathryn Janeway afraid of anything. What happened was unknown, and what dread he saw in her eyes and heard in her voice was because it was an unknown factor, something for which she couldn't find a logical explanation. How could she? Within minutes, she changed from a super healthy human being to a hologram.

It was quiet now. Very soon he had to address the senior crew, outlining details of Kathryn's condition, and hopefully, there'd be some progress made by the EMH. Chakotay was exhausted, although only an hour had passed since Kathryn collapsed on the bridge. Tom had written a programme, using the last remaining active synaptic patterns as a template to create Kathryn's hologram.

"But even if we wake her up, Commander, there is no guarantee that she will have any memory of anything, especially of her life on Voyager. Besides, she will be a hologram..." Tom had looked flustered, almost uncomfortable when he spoke. "It would be best if she remained in stasis..."

The EMH was in sickbay running every subroutine in his medical knowledge and history of Earth medicine to find something, however unlikely it looked, however small or insignificant. Magnus Rollins, who had gone off duty finally, had given him the assurance that there were no anomalies that could have affected the Captain.

"In that case, Commander Chakotay, many more on the ship would have been affected. Perhaps that may be the clue." Tuvok had listened in from the ready room and concurred with Magnus. Whatever happened had nothing to do with the present, and the here and now. They had run diagnostics, scanned the area and come up blank.

He didn't want to leave Kathryn's side; even as a hologram, she was Kathryn, his Kathryn, Captain of Voyager, the one who had helped every known stricken alien, or vessel, or race during their last eight years in the Delta Quadrant. He sat down beside the bed and took her hand in his. The controls had been set to give her normal human body temperature, so she didn't feel cold. He had felt strange, looking at her and touching her hand, her cheek. It felt real, yet she wasn't real. Only the remnants of her brain patterns resided with her, and he was not part of the residual memory. He shook his head. His own knowledge of the unexplained was still too limited to deduce what had struck her down.

Tom remained busy at the monitor, keeping an eye on Kathryn's brainwaves.

The helmsman walked over to him and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Look, Chakotay, I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this mystery. When the Captain has recovered, we will have the wedding ceremony, just like you planned."

"She didn't remember anything, Paris. At the end, she didn't know me. I'm not sure what will happen now. I - I was the happiest man, you know? Last week, when she - she declared her feelings for me..."

Although deeply distressed, he didn't feel discomfort sharing his feelings with Tom Paris. The crew's response to the announcement of their marriage had been whoops of joy. Kathryn had been surprised, almost overawed. It was what she needed to hear, what they both needed - the acceptance of the crew, and their blessing on the union of the Captain and her first officer.

"I know, Chakotay. I'm sorry to see her like this too." He shook his head, then said pensively, "The way her organs just slowly melted away, it made me think of something...an old twentieh century movie...faces that disappeared one by one off a photograph...in it the timeline..."

Tom stopped suddenly, gave a gasp that sounded very like Eureka! Then he hugged Chakotay and would have kissed him too if the latter hadn't pushed the pilot away.

"What is it?"

Hope flared like a sudden bright flame that lit the room as he looked at the helmsman whose eyes suddenly sparked with renewed energy. Tom gripped his shoulders, fingers digging so hard into his flesh that he winced. Tom didn't even notice. His face looked animated; he had been struck by a brilliant epiphany.

"We have been looking in the wrong places, Chakotay. All the wrong places... I should have hit on it immediately... Of course she would fade if - " Tom stopped suddenly, hitting his commbadge.

"Paris to sickbay."

Chakotay looked non-plussed at Paris's obvious joy. All he could do was wait until the pilot was ready with an explanation. He hadn't wanted to push Tom against the bulkhead in frustration again. But not knowing was eating him up as much as knowing that Kathryn might never be with them again.

"Yes, Mr Paris, what is it?" the EMH asked, his voice sounding tinny over the comm link.

"I think you should come to the holodeck right away, Doc. I have just made a brilliant discovery."

"That's a coincidence. I was just about to hail Commander Chakotay. I think we may have the same brilliant idea. Doctor out."

"What's your brilliant idea, Paris?"

"Chakotay, it's not such a long shot after all. The Captain's been the only one on this vessel who has been affected by the temporal surge, right? None of us showed any symptoms because nothing happened to any of the crew. Hell, why didn't I think of it before?

"So that's the cause after all? That two second temporal displacement we had earlier?"

"Not the surge, directly," Tom replied, glancing quickly at the doors when the EMH entered.

"I have reason to believe, Commander," the Doctor interjected as he approached them, "that the Captain's timeline has been altered or polluted."

"What?"

His surprise was genuine, and yet it made perfect sense. There was a tingling sensation down his spine; his neck hair bristled. Did a cold whiff of air suddenly blow over him? It made sense, yes, but why Kathryn? And how?

Chakotay knew about timelines; Kathryn had always declared temporal anomalies a headache. If that were so, why were they all still here, and why was Voyager still intact? Didn't it mean that the causality paradox determined a different path for Voyager with a different commanding officer? Would Voyager have been in the Delta Quadrant at all? And if so, wouldn't their path have been changed, based on the difference in the decisions the captains made? He shook his head, his temples throbbing. He was frustrated at his inability to reason it out logically. There was no time, or he was so frantic, his own disturbed thoughts prevented him from looking at things clearly. He was in a hurry and he was trying to think too fast.

He looked at Tom through glazed eyes. All he could really see was that Tom's lips moved, his voice echoing in the holodeck.

"Commander, the way the Captain's vital organs started to disappear, and eventually her body, means that an ancestor in her direct line is no longer a part of her history. It's the reason she's not with us anymore and has effectively ceased to exist..."

"You're sure about this?" he asked, still sounding woefully sceptical and unsure.

"I don't need to explain that a body that dies when someone tampers with its normal timeline, will not have any descendants, or it will have a completely different descendancy and destiny, if you will."

"That person marries someone else for instance and history could be changed..."

"Precisely!" The doctor crowed with triumph. Tom Paris cleared his throat, reminding him that he had not arrived at his conclusion alone. "Yes, we have hit on the root - the root, yes, the root of the problem."

"I get it. I understand now. What we have to do is trace the Captain's genealogy and try and find the point of origin of the pollution."

"Yes, Chakotay," Tom said, excited. "But when we have traced it, what then?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Tom. We need to sit down and discuss this. The senior officers must be informed."

"Agreed. The Captain is...safe for now, though I should think that time will be of the essence if we're to restore her to her own timeline."

"I'll call a meeting in half an hour. I need to have some time alone here..."

"We may not have time," Tom started.

"Wait!" the doctor commanded suddenly, looking at the sleeping hologram of Captain Janeway, then at them. "Do you realise that the Captain's sister may also have ceased to exist?"

There was a deadly silence as the import of his words sank in.

"Oh, my God..." Tom exclaimed, whistling softly after that.

"We've forgotten completely about Kathryn's sister..." Chakotay said, feeling the darkness settling in him again.

"Was she married, Commander?" the doctor asked him.

"To a Bajoran... Dale Kente..."

"I hate to ask this, Commander. Did Phoebe have any children? They would be in the direct line too..."

He tried to think, tried to remember what Kathryn had said only four days ago. He remembered it was on the night she first played him that haunting Irish melody. Phoebe...Phoebe...

"Two sons, Doctor."

"Oh no," Tom groaned.

"No, they are alive, I'm sure," Chakotay told them. Then his voice dropped to a whisper, unwilling to reveal anything personal of the Captain to them.

"Phoebe's and Dale's sons are adopted. They are Bajoran boys, orphaned during the Cardassian Purge. They - they would not be affected. I don't know of any other children..."

"Then at least, the boys are safe," Tom said, "although we need to contact Starfleet about Phoebe, and about our finding."

"Yes, we must contact them as soon as possible. Put B'Elanna on it to send a message through the datastream. They need to be warned."

Tom and the Doctor both nodded and seconds later, Chakotay found himself alone with Kathryn in the holodeck. The bed stood in the middle of the floor, with some of the equipment the doctor had transported there. It was so impersonal, so cold and distant, like Kathryn was now.

He sat down again and took Kathryn's hand, rubbing the back of it.

"To me you're real, Kathryn. I can't look at your hair and not think it doesn't really exist, because it does," he whispered softly to her. "I can't look at your mouth and not remember how you smile. I can't touch your cheek and not remember how you'd want the moment to last forever. I can't, Kathryn. You're real to me. I can't look into your eyes and not remember the moment when you said

you loved me. We've been on this ship so long, been friends so long. I know you so well, as well as you know me. Then you must know, Kathryn, I'll not give up until we have restored you to take your place again on the bridge in the command chair, leading this crew, with me by your side..."

His words echoed in the holodeck. There were no adornments, no warm furnishing to soften the tragedy - just the stark, grey and yellow grid...mocking him. Reality was Kathryn's face, alive, driven with purpose, softened in her love, the way she inclined her head, the way her mouth curved at the corner when she was amused. That was real. The illusion lay here before him, held together in precarious balance by the reality of a few stray nerve fibres. Yet, illusion kept his hope alive that soon it would be Kathryn Janeway, a living breathing human and not a photonic being that would kiss him, or lie in his arms at night. And though his words sounded empty, an echo, he knew they filled the room with his passionate pleas that she be brought back to them. He caressed her hair, hair that felt no different than that of the real Kathryn. It was silky soft, and he groaned in pain at the loss, at allowing his loss to terrify him.

"Forgive me, Kathryn. It won't happen again. Tonight we would have been married, you and I. It was going to be the most important day of our lives. But I promise you, our wedding will happen. It must happen. It must happen," he repeated urgently.

Chakotay bent over Kathryn and kissed her lips. They felt warm as his lips lingered on hers. He choked back a sob as he stood away from the bed.

"We'll marry and we'll have a son and a daughter. It is our destiny."

It felt strange to him to sit in the chair usually reserved for the captain in the briefing room. His news of what had happened to her had initially shocked them. He looked at them in turn, noting the concern and sadness on each face. B'Elanna found a spot on the table to study. He hoped that look meant the wheels in her head were turning. Seven of Nine looked as she always did - impassive - though he knew that she too, was turning over information in her head. Tuvok busied himself with an occupation he must have learnt from the humans on board - lacing his fingers and rolling his thumbs.

The EMH was silent.

Neelix looked animated.

"How is the Captain, Commander?" he asked.

All eyes were on him, waiting for his response.

"The Captain is in a kind of stasis," he replied.

"Explain," demanded Seven of Nine.

"Her vital functions didn't just come to a stop. In fact, she was already beginning to disintegrate while we were on the bridge. None of the rest of us was affected by the temporal surge. In sickbay, it was just a matter of time and despite the fact that the doctor had replicated her lungs before she disappeared completely. By the time we realised that, the doctor was only able to retrieve the Captain's remaining active synapses before they, too, vanished."

"That is why we are keeping the Captain 'alive' in holographic form."

Visibly distressed, Neelix echoed the doctor's words. "A - A hologram?"

"But wouldn't the remaining nerves have gone too if this were a pollution of the Captain's timeline?" asked Harry, frowning heavily. That they could save something of the Captain seemed to baffle him since he made the logical assumption that everything of Captain Janeway should have been wiped out.

"I had managed to 'mask' those synapses," explained the EMH, "before I knew that the problem was a temporal anomaly. Now I'm glad I did, so that whoever the villain in the timeline is, couldn't wipe out everything. Perhaps some of you will feel a loss of some kind, those whose lives had been influenced by the Captain. Whoever thought they could bypass the twenty fourth century Federation technology of Voyager which has Borg technology integrated into her systems, was in error. What we are doing is keeping Voyager, as well as the Captain, safe until we can do something to restore her. You're correct, Mr Kim. By rights Voyager might have had another commanding officer who might have made completely different decisions... I might not be here at all..."

They nodded in agreement. It was true, Chakotay thought. They were all kept in the captain's timeline by nothing more than a cloaked brain pattern.

"I concur. I take it that you have discovered the cause of the problem," Tuvok said.

"Will we have her back?"

"Patience, guys. Commander Chakotay will explain and assign each of us specific tasks," Tom assured them.

"How can we help?"

Chakotay looked at the EMH. A boulder was pressing down on his chest as he battled to remain calm. Time, as the EMH said, was going to be of the essence. A tragedy was unfolding in which, if they couldn't do anything, they'd have no control and Kathryn would be a hologram forever. The doctor would have the unenviable task of declaring the captain of Voyager dead. He closed his eyes, running his hand through his hair. He would have to continue his life without her. It was a prospect he found unbearable.

"Doctor?" he croaked, feeling a lump rising in his throat.

"Lieutenant Torres has established a link through the datastream to Starfleet Headquarters to enquire about the fate of Phoebe Janeway. They have been informed of the Captain's condition - "

"I am awaiting confirmation from Starfleet, but it will take some time," B'Elanna said. "I've also said that we are working on a solution. I'll be in Astrophysics on standby for a response from them.. Who knows, they may be telling us the Captain's father never existed..."

B'Elanna had kept her eyes on Chakotay all the time as she spoke. He knew she was going to corner him sometime. She looked ready to fight a few battles with whoever the villain was.

"Tom and I will research the timeline and the captain's genealogy. I..." he paused, swallowing first before he looked at all of them in turn. "I have the codes for her private files and family history; of those files and logs I transferred to my own computers..." If he thought they might find his revelation extraordinary, their understanding looks filled him with hope. They were to be married; they wanted no secrets. "Tom is our resident expert in twentieth century history - "

"We might have to delve further than that, Commander," Tom said.

"I know. Tuvok, you and Harry must scan for all possible temporal anomalies, in case we experience another surge. We're keeping Voyager on yellow alert."

It was Seven of Nine who rose from her seat to her impressive height, looking straight at him.

"What is it, Seven?"

"When we have established the point of origin of the pollution, what then?"

They remained somewhat stunned for a second. He hadn't thought that far. How would they get to the past?

"I do believe you have an idea, Seven?" the doctor said.

"I have studied Voyager's database and the events of the years before I came on board. Voyager was thrust through a temporal rift and reached earth in the year 1996 - "

"I get it!" Harry exclaimed, excitement in his voice. "If we can make contact with Captain Braxton, he could assist us."

"In the 29th century," Seven of Nine continued, "time travel has been perfected, but also abused by men like Henry Starling. A Temporal Prime Directive exists with time police who monitor time travel. Captain Braxton might be the right person to contact."

"How?" Chakotay asked, his hope flaring. It was stupid to ask, since the germ of Seven's as yet unvoiced method was already taking root. They were getting closer and closer to a possible solution and he felt a persistent thudding against his ribcage. The senior officers were thinking like a team. He thought that Kathryn would have been proud of them.

"Commander, while investigations are carried out by the others, I will consult with the doctor. That way we can save time. We can then pool our findings..."

Only then did Seven drop her gaze. He sighed. She had not taken it well when he let her down gently. But that was history. They needed her expertise and it would be time wasting if she explained in detail what she had mind. So he nodded.

"Understood, Seven. We meet here in two hours. Dismissed."


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Seven of Nine left the conference room relieved to be out of sight of Commander Chakotay. A year ago she had embarrassed herself by revealing her feelings for him. In her attempt to understand human nature, particularly in affairs of the heart, she had created a hologram of Chakotay and practiced dating with him. In a controlled environment where she, as the creator of a hologram, could determine the destiny, appearance, all emotion subroutines of her character, Chakotay had been the perfect man. He was dashing, kind, compassionate and understood her. Why she had chosen Commander Chakotay had been a source of perplexity for her, because she had always approached everything that happened on board Voyager with clear and rational thought. Focusing her thoughts intensely, she had realized that the rationale for her choice lay in the moment when he called her Annika, while she was still part of the collective. He was the perfect man.

Since then, she had felt a connection to him so that her final choice of a lifemate left no doubt in her mind - it was to be Voyager's first officer.

Seven had turned her attentions to him and he had been flattered, if that was the word that described the look in Chakotay's eyes as they appraised her. She thought there was pleasure in his looks. She had not known then that Captain Janeway, who had been too immured in her role as Captain of the ship, had turned Chakotay away. It was common knowledge among the crew, who thrived on speculation about the ship's command team, that the captain and first officer were an item in their eyes. They all hoped that Captain Janeway would one day come to her senses and tell him of her feelings. They all believed that the captain loved Commander Chakotay. Seven believed it was not so, for how could any woman turn away a man who seemed to her to be perfect?

But then she had seen how Chakotay had become despondent, with a gloominess that gave him a more brooding appearance, a look of hurt lurking in his eyes. The captain didn't want him, that was what she thought and believed. Which meant that he would soon turn his attentions to another and that he would welcome it if she showed him that there was someone who would love him in the way he deserved to be loved. The captain had dismissed his feelings out of hand and sent him away from her. With that knowledge, she had visited Commander Chakotay in his quarters one evening.

Seven shook her head, and touched the enhanced cortical implant before she continued on her way to her Borg alcove. She did not want to remember that night. Yet, images of herself ripping off her close-fitting catsuit, of herself baring her breasts and demanding he put his mouth there... Those images filled her mind, evoking shame once more. She had been naked, grabbing Chakotay's hand and guiding him to her private parts. He had been quiet for several seconds. It seemed to her that he was considering throwing her on his bed like she had yearned as her whole body seemed to be ablaze with desire. There was a flame in his dark eyes, the deep gloom that had been her perceived reason of his unhappiness suddenly changing to lust. He had entertained the idea. She could feel his fingers moving in her. She had felt herself losing control, of an entirely foreign sensation in her core that seemed to close like a clam around his fingers and pulsate around him with juices spurting.

She had not known that she could feel that way, or respond with so much abandon. It awakened her senses, awakened her to a world dark, mysterious and exciting that made her want to explore beyond whatever boundaries there were for the mating ritual.

But then, suddenly, he had pulled away, the flames gone, her body bereft of its heat. He had breathed hard until he calmed. She had been confused at the sudden cold air, the emptiness, the unfulfilled feeling inside her. Chakotay had then calmly taken her clothes, handed them to her and gently told her to get dressed. She had been mortified that he turned her down, but more than ashamed that she had so brazenly revealed herself to him. Then he made her sit down on his couch and he had held her hand all the while he explained to her that he did not feel that way about her. What would have happened would have been an act of lust, he told her. She deserved better than to be seen or used as an object only of someone's base desire. One day she would find the right man who could love her for herself and worship her body with love.

Seven had been too bemused, too ashamed then to take in everything that he told her.

"Is it because you love Captain Janeway?" she had asked, unable to mask her humiliation and her suffering.

Had she been too distressed and embarrassed to note that he never gave her an answer? She loved him, of that she was absolutely certain now, a year after the incident. But Commander Chakotay chose the captain. She had admired him for his fortitude, his devotion to the captain. In the past week she had seen in Commander Chakotay's eyes what it was like to be the object of love. He was different; he looked at peace. When his eyes rested on the captain, it was clear that his love for her burned like a bright flaming torch which only Kathryn Janeway had the power to light.

She had taken to observing them. It was the very absence of proprietorial motivation that spoke louder than any verbal protestation of _hands off, she's mine. _She could see in Commander Chakotay an air of protection that exuded from him. It was not cloying, nor was it complacent; but she gained the impression that Kathryn Janeway now moved about in the complete and utter assurance that she could rely on Chakotay's innate goodness and strength and constancy. Chakotay didn't have to touch Kathryn Janeway at all. Their interaction, the very subtlety of the communication between them, spoke of a familiarity that was borne out of their adversity, their mutual reliance, their love, their unspoken messages, the connection of an invisible thread through which they communicated. It was blinding, the realisation that in a thousand years she could not have that with Chakotay. Those eyes had never looked at her in that way, never uttered unspoken words that left anyone who looked, a little outside that cocoon.

The way in which her insides appeared to shrivel and die from pain, filled her with confusion.

"I will adapt," she told herself. "The Borg always adapt."

Her emotions, thrown into disarray, found only one thing they could latch on that would assuage her unhappiness. It settled and coalesced into a single thought: _Now is the time I could kill Captain Janeway; then the commander would be mine forever. I have not forgotten the look in his eyes, or the way his fingers delved into my flesh or the way my body just wanted his touching to go on forever. _

She thought if the Captain were dead or had ceased to exist completely, then Commander Chakotay would look at her again and think of the time his hands were on her body and how she did not reject his touches. It was so easy. All she had to do was stand back and do nothing.

When she entered the holodeck, the doctor was there.

"Doctor, I have come to discuss my idea with you, because I require your assistance if I'm to carry it out - "

"Anything, Seven of Nine. Anything at all, if we can save our Captain. For her, we'll give our lives, for hadn't Captain Janeway shouldered all our burdens and made so many sacrifices for us? We _must_ save our Captain."

Our Captain...

She looked at the bed, at the silent figure of the captain's hologram. For her, all on the ship would give their lives. For her they would take Voyager back in time to correct a wrong. For the captain, whom they loved.

Something happened inside her. She cast out of her heart all repugnant thoughts. From far away, she heard the doctor's woman who lay on the bed, hologram or not, was the woman who had breathed life into her, who had patiently introduced her to her humanity; this woman who told her how a _single act of compassion could bring a person in touch with his humanity..._ How could she ever have entertained any thoughts of denying this woman her happiness and denying Commander Chakotay his? How could she have entertained any thought of denying this woman her life if it were within her ability to save her? Seven's heart emptied of its shameful feelings; like a sea of pus they exited her body, streaming from her eyes, her mouth, her ears, her heart. In their place came goodwill, love for this woman and the desire to help restore Captain Janeway to life. Compassion filled her being, and she chided herself for being so wholly self-centred.

"Seven...?"

"Doctor," she responded as she swung round to face him.

"You look distressed, Seven of Nine. Is anything the matter?"

"Nothing, Doctor. The captain's condition is distressing to witness. That is all."

The EMH nodded. "So, inform me of your plan, Seven. We don't have much time."

"I can interface with your mobile-emitter, Doctor, which is 29th century technology." It pleased her to see the doctor's understanding nod. "However, I can only do so once I've reconfigured the signals and aligned it with my cortical node in my regeneration chamber. You will have to remain in the holodeck or sickbay for the duration - "

"I don't mind at all, Seven," the doctor replied, his eyes alive. "I need to remain here in any case to monitor your progress and that of the Captain. Her remaining synapses are still stable, but I can only hold them in stasis for another day before they degrade altogether."

"That may be all we need, Doctor," she said as she removed the doctor's mobile emitter.

"How will you bypass any Borg interference?" he asked, as a thought struck him. She gave him a little smile. "Do not worry, Doctor. I have the help I need..." Her gaze fell on the captain's body again. "She will be restored to us, Doctor."

"Thank you, Seven. I know it has not been easy..."

"What do you mean?"

"Letting Commander Chakotay go. You love him."

"I will adapt."

"You are more human now than ever before. If it means so much to you seeing Commander Chakotay happy with..." he looked at the captain, "the woman of his life, then you have matured."

He looked at her with kindness in his eyes. She nodded, clenched her finger around the emitter and without saying another word, left the holodeck.

"Seven of Nine, you hailed me," Icheb's voice sounded behind her at the cargo bay workstation.

"I require your assistance, Icheb. I believe together we can achieve our goal."

"And what is our goal, Seven of Nine?"

When he stood next to her, he showed little reaction to the mobile emitter that was now fused to her cortical node. Already she could feel the voices, thousands of voices, men, women and children. Screaming voices attached to outstretched hands pleading for help in the Borg wilderness. She stifled a cry, reminding herself that what she felt was irrelevant to their cause. But the voices kept coming.

"Seven of Nine, state our goal," Icheb said, looking at her with youthful candour.

"Our..our goal...yes," she said, pulling herself back from the myriad voices, "we have a mission. An away mission, if you like."

"Explain, Seven of Nine. You have merged the doctor's emitter with your cortical node. What is the purpose?"

"Captain Janeway is...indisposed. We have to make contact with Captain Braxton."

"Of the Time Police, 29th century. How may I assist in this mission?"

"I have reconfigured the emitter to direct an emergency Federation signal to Captain Braxton's commbadge. We will both be in regeneration for one hour or until contact is made."

"You can hear the voices of all those assimilated by Borg. It does not give you pleasure."

"No. But what I feel is irrevelant."

"And what do we sacrifice, Seven of Nine?"

"That you will learn, Icheb. Please step up. Your mission is to divert any Federation signal leaving my alcove and yours from any Borg interference while I make contact with Captain Braxton. We do not wish to have the Borg on our...tail, as Tom Paris would say."

"You are making a sacrifice. You may die from the pain."

"Yes."

"Then I will assist. The captain must return to us."

.

She waited for Icheb to enter his chamber, then set the controls. Instantly the whirring started. All instructions had already been entered and all Icheb had to do was follow them. Then she too stepped into her chamber. She sighed as she turned to face outward and close her eyes. A second later, the voices began to diminish as Icheb started to absorb them; from the millions of sounds and signals she could search for an isolated one, the one signal she was looking for.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

Chakotay rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted. The past hour he had systematically worked through Kathryn's logs, and a book that chronicled the genealogy of the Janeway family. Kathryn's image was superimposed on every woman in the Janeway line he read about. The closest he had come or, he smiled grimly to himself, the furthest he had gone back was to Shannon O'Donnell and her meeting with Henry Janeway. Although Henry Janeway had a son from a previous marriage, Kathryn was a direct descendant of Henry's union with Shannon O'Donnell. He knew he had to go further and he tried to remember the odd phrases, the little bits of information Kathryn had given him of her family history.

"Did you know," she said once, when they had been stranded on New Earth, "that my founding mother was born in Ireland?"

"I know now," he had teased her gently.

They had been happy on New Earth and he had been happy seeing her in tune with her surroundings. She had fought so hard then, her energy inexhaustible as she searched and researched for a cure for them. When she had finally come to terms that they might have to remain on New Earth for the rest of their lives, Kathryn had transformed into a bright and easy-going person, one who smiled and laughed often, who teased and cajoled and had fun with him. In the evenings when they shared their quiet moments, she would sit with him on his bed and rest her head against his chest. Then she'd talk and he would share with her his history, his legends.

"Oh yes. She wrote articles on women's rights for the New York Times. Ahead of her time. She was apparently very self-assured and feisty - "

"Like someone I know?"

"As I said, she was the beginning. After that, there has always been a remarkable Janeway woman, someone who was a contrary, like you..."

Now he remembered Kathryn's words and he realised he had to go further back, perhaps even to the nineteenth century, as Tom had suggested. Tom was in the holodeck lab where he believed he could conduct a search more efficiently. He hailed Tom, giving the helmsman three names that were possibilities.

Kathryn was his life. He couldn't bear to lose her. Once he thought he'd lost her forever and he had been foolish enough to think that another woman could fill that void in him. Seven had tried; he had let her down gently, although for a few seconds he had been overcome by temptation.

Last night he and Kathryn had come close to making love, and it had been Kathryn who gently pulled them both back from the brink. He had burned with passion as he held her in his arms on the couch. She had felt soft and pliant, and their kiss had deepened, her mouth soft and moist. He wanted to go on forever tasting her, for she was sweet, an intoxicating nectar that kept filling to the brim and overflowing. Her arms had been about his neck and she had caressed his hair, had breathed deeply and moaned as his tongue searched hungrily in an equally hungry mouth that generously opened generously for him. Her tongue had darted into his mouth and he had groaned loudly, a heady feeling persisting long after the kiss ended. Kathryn's eyes had been warm, her eyelids heavy and brooding. He could feel, as his hand remained against her bosom, how her heart thumped erratically.

"Tomorrow night, Chakotay, then I am yours. I love you," she added, humbly, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you...so sorry..."

As he had pulled her into his embrace, the burning, unassuaged passion made way for deep caring. He had felt like crying too as he held her so close to him.

"Don't worry, my love. Making love with you on our wedding night will be worth the wait. Thank you. Now, will you play me our melody?"

"Oh Chakotay!" she cried. Seconds later the strains of _I'll take you home again, Kathleen_ filled his cabin.

Now Kathryn lay in the holodeck, a hologram, and he feared that they might be too late. He wanted to hurry through the data and logs and related texts but he had been forced to look at every clue, even the remotest. Scrolling further down, he paused at a certain point. Finally! He read and reread it, his eyes filling with wonder as he finished. Then he hit his commbadge.

"Chakotay to Paris."

"Paris here, Commander. What is it?"

"I have the genealogy of Captain Janeway's untainted timeline here where it has crossed paths with Federation history. Her personal logs and other data pertaining to her family history are on my computers, and I am assuming these are untainted. I'm not sure if I understand this at all, but I'm coming to the holodeck laboratory."

"Then I have news for you too, Commander. It seems I have here the tainted timeline, because large parts of Federation events that touch the Janeways directly, are erroneous. It seems that the captain's father has a younger brother, and I know Edward Janeway was an only son. I have traced it right back to the 20th century. I should know. I'm the resident expert, right?"

"I'm one up on you, Paris. Mine goes into late nineteenth, as in 1899."

Chakotay heard a loud whistling sound from Paris before he closed communication and made his way to the holodeck lab.

Tom didn't look up as Chakotay entered the lab. Chakotay grinned. Tom Paris was too deep into his research. Normally he would have been distracted by the opening and closing of a door. His head turning every time someone entered the bridge was his trademark. This time he kept his nose almost against the screen.

"Your nose will burn into the monitor, Paris," he said as he approached.

At that moment his commbadge beeped.

"Torres to Chakotay."

"Yes, B'Elanna?"

"I have news. I don't know if it's good news or what can be construed as bad - "

"Just tell me what you've discovered."

He heard B'Elanna growl at his bluntness.

"I've received a communique, not from Admiral Paris, but an Admiral Ponsonby. There was an Admiral Edward Janeway, who was married to a Gretchen. Up to that point as far as Starfleet is concerned, the timeline remained the same. Gretchen Janeway is fine since she married into the Janeway family. That is probably good news, right? But, Commander, Gretchen and Edward Adam Janeway had two sons, Charles and Andrew, who are both dead. Kathryn Janeway and Phoebe are the daughters of Matthew Travis Janeway, Edward's brother. Phoebe Janeway is dead. Her two adopted sons are also fine."

"My God," exclaimed Tom. "The timeline is really skewered..."

Chakotay felt himself turn cold at B'Elanna's startling news. Yet...

"Why do I feel there's more, Torres?" he barked, feeling another wave of dread fill him.

"Phoebe's baby died, Commander. I'm sorry."

There was a heavy pause, the echo of B'Elanna's words still ringing in his ears. The echo was replaced by a buzz, a sickening noise that briefly caused him not to hear Paris calling his name. He felt sick to his stomach.

"Thank you. Chakotay out..."

Tom stood next to him, steadying him.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Commander."

"She didn't know about the baby... Kathryn had not received any messages from home in almost six months because she felt the crew needed to send and receive messages first."

"That is the way of Captain Janeway, Commander. But let's look at our data, okay? We'll get Phoebe and her baby back too."

"Yes," Chakotay said softly, "we'll get them back."

In cargo bay two Seven of Nine stepped out of her regeneration alcove. She deactivated Icheb's link and soon, he too stepped out.

"Seven of Nine," he started, "I know what sacrifice is."

"I commend your strength. You have taken everything upon you - "

"In order that I too may be of help in Captain Janeway's recovery. It was no...big deal..."

Seven couldn't smile. Icheb had absorbed the intrusion of thousands of voices and safely diverted any signals away from the Borg. He looked exhausted.

"You require rest."

"I want to help."

"You have helped more than you know. I have succeeded in making contact with Captain Braxton. I only hope that he will respond swiftly because we are losing time. Please, you must rest now. I will keep you updated on what has transpired after our meeting. I have to meet with Commander Chakotay."

"Then I will do so, Seven of Nine. Naomi Wildman has asked me to assist her in elementary theory of quantum mechanics."

"That is rest?"

"Indeed."

"Understood. I must go now."

Seven left Icheb and strode purposefully out of the cargo bay. She felt a new surge of satisfaction that she had, with Icheb's assistance, succeeded in her task. Commander Chakotay needed to be informed. Now she knew she could look at him and the hurt would not be as intense as it had been before. She loved him for herself, but she loved him enough to accept that she would never be the one to make his happiness complete.

What she had done now, was not only for the general good of the ship, but because she wanted to help the Commander find his true love again; she wanted to do it for the woman who was going to take her to see her aunt again, the only remaining family she had. She wanted to do it because she loved Captain Janeway as the woman who had done so much for her. She wanted to do it because she was a member of Voyager's crew.

She felt good. It made her smile. No longer would she be unhappy. She knew that her dreams would have new heroes, not ones that she worshipped selfishly, but ones who would do everything and more for a lonely group of travelers making their way home across the Delta Quadrant.

Yes, the boulders that weighed so heavily on her because she loved a man so hopelessly, lifted. She could feel it in the way her steps lightened, the way she floated down the corridor, then made her way into the turbolift and ordered it to take her to deck one.

In the conference room, the first thing Chakotay noticed as Seven sat down, was the doctor's mobile emitter fused to the cortical node.

"Seven? Will you explain?" he asked, sitting after everyone else.

"I am in a continuous link with Captain Braxton. I've managed to isolate his commlink signal from the millions of others based on his own commbadge, which was shortly in the possession of Captain Janeway while on Earth in 1996. I will not belabour the technicalities at this point. Suffice to say, I've completed a full report of that aspect of my search."

"How soon do you think before there will be any response?" asked Tuvok.

"I only found a connection 61 minutes ago. It may be another hour, perhaps less. I have stated that it is an urgent matter of a temporal infraction which has incapacitated Voyager's captain."

Tom raised his hand. "Uh, Seven, correct me if I'm wrong, but wouldn't your signal have been picked up by the Borg?"

Chakotay had the same thought, and he knew by the looks of the others, that they had too. He knew how much she had endured while being severed from the Borg by him. He had seen and heard the frightened six year old Annika Hansen in the throes of fear, watching her parents assimilated before she too became a victim. There was no doubt that the same may have happened now.

"Icheb joined me in his alcove and absorbed..." Seven's slight pause was enough for them to realise that she had endured some pain, or distress, but that Icheb had taken the brunt of it.

"It's okay, Seven," B'Elanna said.

"I have instructed him to...rest. He is with Naomi Wildman now."

It warmed Chakotay the way B'Elanna touched Seven's arm in a gesture of reassurance.

"Thank you."

Chakotay nodded.

"B'Elanna has informed me that she has made contact with Starfleet," he began. "Unfortunately Phoebe Janeway has died as well as her three month old baby. Captain Janeway and her sister are the daughters of Matthew Janeway, not Edward Janeway, in the corrupted timeline. Edward Janeway's two sons, though, have also died."

There was a hushed silence as they took in news of the tragedy.

"I'm certain once we have corrected the wrong," came the voice of the EMH from holodeck 1, "they will be restored too."

"That is correct. Lieutenant Paris and I have been researching 20th century data pertaining to Captain Janeway's direct line of descendancy." Chakotay paused, then watched their impatient expressions as they waited for him to continue. "The earliest known female ancestor of Kathryn Janeway is Kathleen O'Clair. We could have gone further back, but her life or convergence with the man she married, is our point of origin of the distorted timeline."

"How do you know that?" Neelix asked.

"Yes, how?"

"Kathleen O'Clair was born in Ireland, the third of six daughters born to Eileen and Liam O'Clair. On the 10th May, she boarded a vessel that would take her to the New World - America. The _Britannic_, a steamship of the White Star Line, sailed from Liverpool on that day. Kathleen's name was on the passenger list. A month after her arrival in New York she married the Captain of the _Britannic_. It seemed that a shipboard romance developed between Kathleen and the _Britannic's_ captain."

"How could you verify that they married, and on that day?"

"Ever heard of the Library of Congress, Kim?" Tom asked, a little irritated.

"Okay, okay..."

"Well, immigration records exist for those who applied for United States citizenship. A son and two daughters were born to Kathleen - " Chakotay explained from his own data.

"Who was the captain? Was he the male ancestor?" Neelix interrupted, his eyes yellower than usual.

"Aye. His name was Edward Adam Janeway. His command of the _Britannic_ was his final journey to the New World. It was the _Britannic's_ last commercial trans-Atlantic crossing. After that she was used to cart British soldiers fighting a war in Southern Africa. In 1903, the _Britannic_ was sold for scrap."

"As I was saying, a son and two daughters were born to Kathleen and Edward, and this son Matthew was the grandfather of Henry Janeway, a widower who later married Shannon O'Donnell."

"Phew! What a history!" exclaimed Harry.

"She was not alone when she made her way to Dublin," Chakotay continued, "and purportedly from there to Liverpool. She was accompanied by a young man - "

"Who it seems," Tom Paris said, grinning, "is a forebear of mine. One Thomas Kiernan. Apparently he and Kathleen O'Clair were neighbours and great friends. She mentions him as a godfather to her firstborn child."

"The point of origin is therefore the meeting of Kathleen O'Clair and Edward Adam Janeway - "

"Isn't Captain Janeway's father also Edward Janeway?"

Chakotay didn't want to explain just how distorted the timeline was.

"Indeed. There has been an Edward Adam Janeway every second generation," Chakotay explained. "Now somehow, Kathleen O'Clair and Thomas Kiernan never made it to America in 1899. In fact, they never made it out of Ireland."

"And therefore Kathleen and Edward couldn't possibly have met and created our Captain's lineage?"

"Correct," Tom Paris added. He held up his PADD like a beacon of hope. "In the main database, I found some startling discrepancies. Suffice to say, Kathleen didn't make it to Liverpool on that day in 1899, because I couldn't find the name Kathleen O'Clair on the passenger list of the _Britannic_. Commander Chakotay had given me a few names, and this plucky young lady wasn't one of them. She did leave Ireland, but only thirteen years later."

"Thirteen years! She married someone else, naturally."

"Well, yes and no. Apparently Kathleen did marry an Irish farmer, last name Riley. When she boarded the _Titanic_ in 1912, it was as Kathleen O'Clair. I'm assuming she left him since she was traveling alone.."

"The _Titanic_? But...but..." Harry stammered.

"Her name was on the passenger list of that vessel. 1522 passengers drowned when the _Titanic_ struck an iceberg and sank. Kathleen O'Clair's name was not among the survivors..."

Tom paused, letting his words sink in.

"So...we have to find Kathleen O'Clair and make sure she gets on the _Britannic_ to meet and fall in love with Captain Edward Adam Janeway..." B'Elanna said, her voice trailing into a sigh.

"And marry him a month later," Seven of Nine added.

"And make sure there are no...impediments," B'Elanna sighed again.

"You're an incurable romantic, reader of Klingon love stories," Tom said to B'Elanna, smiling.

B'Elanna scowled and gave him a playful jab. At that moment Seven gave a shudder, her eyes widening before her face broke into a smile.

Rested enough to resume his bridge duties, Magnus Rollins, while covering for Tuvok, kept his eyes fixed on the main viewscreen. Ayala filled in for Harry and at the helm was James Hamilton. They were now only two days away from Ankares IV, and on Chakotay's instruction, reduced speed to warp 3 while investigations were under way.

Ayala remained alert, scanning for any anomalies and from time to time reporting to Rollins. All was quiet on the bridge; the general low hum of voices that had become part of their daily routine and which Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay had allowed, was no longer there. They were reserved, silent, all filled with dread that the Captain might never recover. Rollins was kept up to date on the progress made by the senior crew, and felt very sorry that the Captain's sister and baby had also died. He, like many of the crew, knew what it was to miss someone who had died and who had been so close to them. Chakotay especially, struggled, but Rollins doubted whether the crew understood just how close to his heart Chakotay kept his sorrow. While they battled to find an answer to the mystery of the Captain's disappearance from Voyager, Chakotay most particularly knew that he had to remain in control and to remain level-headed for the sake of the crew.

Now, they all waited for the meeting to end; from time to time Magnus's eyes stole to the right, where the entrance to the briefing room was. He wondered what they had to report, but whatever it was, the crew would be informed. Seven of Nine had sent him a message that they had to be on the alert for a Federation signal, and he was ready for the next temporal surge should there be one.

It was the exact moment that he turned to face the main viewscreen again that a flash appeared, shooting right out of the black night. Then the flash hovered until it became still. A ship about the size of the Delta Flyer appeared on the screen.

"Open a hail," he ordered Ayala, who was already on it.

"It's a Federation signal, Rollins."

The next moment the face of a man - human - filled the screen. Rollins frowned; the man looked familiar to him.

"I am Lieutenant Rollins of the Federation Starship Voyager. Greetings..."

"Braxton. Captain Braxton. I responded to an emergency on an ancient Federation subspace band."

"Braxton?" Rollins replied. "I remember you."

"Yes, yes," Braxton gushed, appearing out of breath. Magnus wondered if he had been running all the way from the 29th century to Voyager. "You have two Borg on board," Braxton continued. "I was contacted by one of them. I request to see the Captain immediately."

"Captain Janeway is incapacitated. Commander Chakotay - "

"Braxton! Just the man we want to see," exclaimed Chakotay as he came out of the conference room, the rest filing out behind him. Chakotay hit his commbadge. "Transport Captain - "

"Not necessary, Commander Chakotay."

A second later Braxton was standing on the bridge, looking around him and giving an annoyed little grunt. He walked to Voyager's plaque to the left of the bridge and stared at it wonderingly. Braxton was dressed in a uniform that Magnus deduced to be 29th century Starfleet issue. Then Braxton turned to them, the wondering, awed look gone like mist. He was also standing hands on his hips like someone who owned all he surveyed; he also looked extremely annoyed. "So...who's been messing with the timeline this time?"

Chakotay didn't reply, instead, he gestured to Braxton to follow him to the ready room.

"Tuvok, you have the bridge."

Chakotay sat down in the chair behind the desk while Braxton remained standing. He looked restless, like someone who wanted to get things done yesterday. He grinned inwardly at his own assessment of Braxton's manners.

"Well, Commander? Where is Captain Janeway? I made your emergency hail a high priority. Thank that Borg of yours, will you?"

Chakotay turned his console and opened a link to holodeck 1. They could see the doctor near the biobed on which Kathryn lay.

"That is not the Captain, Braxton, but a hologram of her. The EMH has managed to salvage some of her last active synapses and copied them to the hologram."

"I see. It's the reason Voyager and its crew didn't drop out of the timeline... Interesting..." Braxton rubbed his chin. "How long can the doctor keep the synapses active?"

"They were at 100% two hours ago. They are now at 90%..."

Braxton's eyes narrowed. He was doing the calculations.

"That gives Voyager eighteen more hours to reset the timeline. Not much to play with considering you have to be in 1899, where traveling was done by horse and cart and old steamships."

"We'll do whatever it takes, Braxton. Now, can you help us?"

"This woman," Braxton started as he pointed to Kathryn, "hurled me right into 1966 Earth and left me stewing there for thirty years."

"I'm sure you've forgiven her. We set things right, didn't we?"

"Naturally. Now, her timeline has been polluted. It doesn't get polluted by accident, you know."

"Are you going to tell me? We're 17 minutes into the last eighteen hours, Braxton."

"Yes, yes. We'll have to find out once we get there. My ship can create a little temporal rift without distorting Voyager's projected route to Ankares IV. It's set to reach Earth 1899 in an hour. You have little time, Commander. I need only three crewmembers to accompany me. My ship will be in Earth's orbit and will remain cloaked."

Chakotay looked at Braxton, who couldn't keep his eyes off the woman on the biobed.

"We were to be married tonight..."

"I know."

"Temporal Prime Directive, huh?"

"Yes. Take me to the holodeck."

It was an order and Chakotay shrugged aside any resentment. Five minutes later they stood in the holodeck near the bed on which the Captain lay.

"Captain Braxton! You are here!" the doctor gushed. "Ah, I feel so much better. We can help the Captain. By my calculations the synapses will degrade completely in eighteen hours. Then we'll lose Captain Janeway completely and we will vanish too!"

"So much faith. I'm astounded that a hologram can think," Braxton said unkindly. But the doctor was unfazed by Braxton's brusque manner.

"Well, we have two Borg who have braved the possible reappearance of ten Borg cubes just to make contact with you. One of them is a young boy who, in his own words, was willing to die to keep Voyager away from any threat" the EMH said soberly. "The exercise has left them completely depleted of strength. They must regenerate but they refuse to do so until they can see their captain standing in front of them - a flesh and blood captain. I don't need to remind you that every member of this crew is prepared to lay down his life for Captain Janeway. Now, if that isn't good enough a sacrifice for you, I suggest that you try and conduct yourself a little more amenably and appreciate our present precarious circumstances. I'm sure Commander Chakotay can do without you harping on the Janeway Factor and how it ruined your life for thirty years. What we need is your help, Captain Braxton."

Chakotay stared open-mouthed at their doctor. Then he looked at Braxton whose look mimicked his own. He almost burst out laughing. Braxton gave a little cough, then stepped up to the biobed.

"A hologram... You're doing well keeping her in this state, Doctor," he said, much more toned down after the doctor's diatribe. The air that had chilled a minute ago changed to something warmer. "Otherwise we'd lose her sooner. Her sister has also ceased to exist..."

"Yes. So what do you suggest, Braxton?"

"I'll be on my ship. In an hour I expect three of your crew to join me. I'll relay to you the dress specifications of the period as well as Temporal Protocols. Doctor, you have 29th century technology courtesy of that villain Henry Starling. That was used to make contact with me. Thank your Borg for me, will you?"

Chakotay could hardly open his mouth this time. Braxton seemed to have calmed dramatically and even sounded very friendly, as if that were the normal Braxton. He certainly hoped that it was. But Braxton's initial reactions still begged pondering, and Chakotay couldn't help thinking that he knew much more than he let on.

He nodded to Braxton who, with just a light touch on his 29th century state of the art commbadge, dematerialised. Seconds later, data streamed in from Braxton's ship to the holodeck computers.

"Thanks, Doc, that brought him up short, didn't it?"

"He knows more than he's letting on," the EMH said succinctly.

"I know."

"Look, Commander, I know how this is affecting you. You look exhausted. I hope you're not considering - "

"I'm going, Doctor. There's no way I'm not going to make sure myself that the Captain is safely returned to us. I'm taking Rollins and Gilmore - "

"Marla Gilmore? Why?"

"Why don't you tell me what you think?"

"The crew of the Equinox have not been on any away missions since they boarded Voyager - "

"Something that must be addressed in future. They've earned their wings, Doc.. Any other reason?"

"Well, I just thought that you're going to 1899 Ireland, steeped in old fashioned values. Our Kathleen O'Clair might feel better talking to a woman or being in the company of another female. And you'd have to cover that tattoo of yours..."

"My thought, exactly, Doc. Taking a female crewmember as the third member of the away mission will allay Kathleen's fears should she have them." He tapped his commbadge. "Chakotay to Gilmore."

"Gilmore here," came the well-modulated voice of Marla Gilmore.

"Fancy going on an away mission, Marla?"

"Me, Commander?" Marla's surprise was evident. She had been a lieutenant on the Equinox but had been demoted to crewman after that debacle.

Chakotay smiled at her surprised reaction. Marla and Noah deserved to get their ranks reinstated. It was something he had wanted to discuss with Kathryn.

"The doctor will download the information you need. Be dressed and ready on the bridge in an hour."

There was a pause. Chakotay thought he heard a tiny sob.

"Thank you, Commander. Thank you so much! I'm very happy to be of assistance."

"You're welcome, Marla. Chakotay out."

**First Officer's Personal log - 2379; 1300.**

_My dearest Kathryn_

_I am going on a mission to rescue you. It sounds like a paradox, doesn't it? But you know how you've always hated temporal anomalies and causality paradoxes. If you're reading this, you will have been restored to your own timeline and it will take me at least an hour to return to Voyager. We have enlisted the aid of Captain Braxton. The doctor gave Braxton an earful for mouthing off against you and that brought Braxton up short. Poor man. I felt a little sorry for him. Good thing the doctor got to him first. I don't know if I would have contained my own anger any longer. _

_You are lying in stasis, as a hologram, because it is the only way that the doctor could keep Voyager within your timeline. The doctor will explain to you the technicalites of that._

_If I do not return, then this will be the last letter to you, my love. I don't know what dangers we may be encountering; everything is shrouded in such mystery. _

_I want to say that I love you. I want to stand on top of this ship and shout it to the universe and hope every living and breathing entity can hear me. You have made me whole again because I had been only a shell, a vessel waiting to be filled by your grace and your love. It has been worth it, Kathryn. Every single touch of affection, every time you turned your head and looked at me with such a smile...it has been worth it. _

_Your last words to me were that you felt displaced, that you were here and not here. You looked so scared, Kathryn, that my heart bled for you. I've never seen you look like that. Only now when I think about it, I know it is because I saw in your eyes that, as much as I dreaded losing you, you dreaded losing me._

_Someone or something polluted your timeline, Kathryn. We are going back to set history right for you so that once again, Kathleen O'Clair can be with the man she loved, and Kathryn Janeway can be with the man she loves. I find it so touching, and not entirely out of context, that in the Fairhaven programme which Tom wrote, you chose the name of Katie O'Clair. Did you know then that somehow, sometime, Katie O'Clair would be instrumental in ensuring the Janeway line? I think so, even if you never consciously chose it to be that way. The mind and the memory and all recollections we have as humans are wonderful and mysterious things. Sometimes we cannot explain things, but we just know, don't we?_

_I love you. I will love you to my dying day. I hope to be back, standing next to you when we make our vows. I hope to lie next to you in our bed and hold you in my arms and assure you over and over that never will I leave you. Once, you had been afaid that I would. I know. I sensed how you drew away from me a year ago. Let me tell you - as beautiful and aloof as she is, she could never, ever, be you. That is why I knew that I would wait, for I knew that the day would come that you would give me an unwavering look and tell me "I love you, Chakotay", and that there would be no doubt in your mind as to the decision you made to come to me, not as my Captain, not as my fellow officer, not as my friend and confidant, but as my lover, as my beloved._

_And so I take my leave of you, Kathryn. When I return and see your smiling face again, then I'll know; Kathleen O'Clair and Kathryn Janeway were not so different after all._

_All my love,_

_Chakotay._

Chakotay held the PADD in his hand. He was now alone with Kathryn in the holodeck. The light was a low illumination so that the glow on her face made her look real, alive. He looked at his clothing again. Braxton had been very specific and he felt slightly uncomfortable in loose-fitting woollen trousers and baggy shirt buttoned high to his neck, with very little collar, and a jacket with patches on the elbows. He had opted for a soft woollen cap to cover the tattoo. By the time he realised that his tattoo would attract attention in Dublin, it was too late for the EHM to do anything to mask it. They had been too busy meeting Braxton's requirements for dress and studying the Temporal Protocols in his quarters and planning strategy for the mission in the hour they were given. Now, he just had to make sure no one noticed. The boots he wore were correct for the period. At the top of his trousers were two hidden pockets as Braxton had instructed. He had given each of them a 29th century commbadge which had to remain hidden on their person, as well as a site to site transporter, should they need to use one, although only in extreme circumstances. They had studied the Temporal Protocols and knew the rules as well as they could memorise them in the hour they were given to prepare for the away mission.

Now, dressed as a worker in late 19th century Dublin, he hoped he could blend in with the crowd and not startle anyone with his tanned appearance. Heaven forbid that anyone should pull off his cap and see the tattoo.

"You could say you've been to North Africa and they integrated you into a tribe. Then you can say that you only just returned as a relief worker in the breweries," Magnus told him. Magnus didn't look much different, although he had chosen to wear an ivy cap, the peak of which sat low over his forehead. He looked like a newsboy.

"You tell me how someone who could afford to travel to North Africa suddenly finds himself working in a brewery." he countered.

Magnus smiled. "Down on your luck, maybe? Lost ten barefisted fighting contests?"

He had grinned and replied, "Let's hope we don't get to that!"

Chakotay sighed. He placed the PADD next to Kathryn's head. Then he touched her face, caressing the cheeks that were still kept warm. She didn't stir and he almost wished that she would. He so badly wanted to wake her up, but kept reminding himself that she was just a collection of photonic particles.

Yet, he remembered once when the Fairhaven folk called them spirit folk, that Kathryn didn't want to destroy the programme because she felt they had feelings too. He had shrunk back at the thought of creating a full functioning hologram of her. It just didn't sit right with him; it was as if he were sullying Kathryn's memory. She would speak with Kathryn's voice; she would even cry Kathryn's tears; she would walk and gesture like Kathryn, but at the back of his mind there was always the knowledge that she was a duplication of the real person.

Still, it was very difficult to let go. So very difficult. He rose and bent over her. What he had not wanted to do all day because it didn't feel right, he did now. He lifted her in his arms and held her close to him. Then he pressed his lips to hers in a tender caress. His eyes closed at the touch. Her lips felt warm and soft. On a sigh, he broke contact and pressed the sleeping figure back down.

On the bridge they waited for Braxton's signal. The senior crew looked at them with great curiosity, although they all knew by now that the away team would be dressed in clothing of the period.

"I could live with that," Tom Paris announced.

"Magnus, will I get your cap when you get back?" asked Harry.

"Crewman Gilmore," gushed Neelix, "I must say you look ravishing in that dress!"

Marla smiled a little shyly. Her long dress, in dark turquoise, hugged her body, and her hair was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Full skirted, the skirt billowed about her legs. She shifted uncomfortably and Chakotay realised that none of them were used to their new late 19th century outfits.

He turned to Tuvok.

"In my absence and that of the Captain, Commander Tuvok, you are temporarily assigned to the duty of Acting Captain."

Tuvok, who had been sitting in the command chair, now rose from his seat and faced Chakotay. He looked inscrutible as he raised his hands in a Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper..."

The next second, the bridge of Voyager vanished.

END CHAPTER TWO


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**April 1899 - ****Ireland. The Craggs, 10 miles outside Dublin. **

They lay on a grassy knoll, with the backs of their heads touching. The day had broken unexpectedly balmy after the week's persistent rain. Now, the ground was dry enough that they could lie on their backs, looking at the open, clear blue sky. A little distance away was the homestead - a farmhouse with outbuildings and stables. This was the Ireland she loved best, Ireland with its rolling hills, its wild sandy shores, the smell of salt in the air on these days that made her remember they weren't that far from the sea.

Kathleen knew Thomas was chewing a long reed. Whenever he was thinking, there was a reed stuck between his teeth. Born only days apart, they had been friends since they could walk and their friendship had grown with them into their adulthood.

"I won't ever get another friend like you, Thomas," she said, breaking the silence.

"Katie O'Clair, one day you will marry a very nice man who will worship you and respect you and that will be the end of that," Thomas replied.

"All my sisters are married."

"Your papa found husbands for them. Everything was arranged, you know that. You are a contrary, Katie O'Clair, fighting your papa like you do."

"They had no choice, being married off like that. They're not cattle, you know."

"They don't seem to mind."

Katie turned over swiftly to lie on her stomach.

"Thomas Eugene Kiernan, look at me."

"Nope."

"Come on. Look me in the eyes and tell me you would like your father to give you a girl you don't want."

Thomas turned over lazily, bracing himself on his elbows.

"I'm looking, Katie O'Clair. I ought to tell you they're thinking of fixing us up."

"Me and you?" Katie burst out laughing. "Tommy Kiernan! I've seen that wee thing of yours when my Mama bathed us together under the eaves in a tub in summer!" Tommy looked crestfallen, but Katie knew he was shamming. "Come on, Tommy. We're much better off being friends."

Tommy reached for her hair and gave it a playful tug.

"Honestly? It's my mama having crazy notions about us ending up together."

"And you know Papa promised that freckle-faced evil widower Justin Riley I would be his wife by June."

"June! Didn't you say you want to be in the New World by then? The Land of Opportunity and Dreams, remember? America, where the Lady welcomes all who seek her wisdom. We sail to freedom, remember?"

"With what money, Thomas Kiernan? They were dreams..."

"I've saved enough. I know you've saved too. Come on, Katie. We've dreamed together since our tub days."

"Yes, Tommy," she sighed. She was secretly thrilled at running away from home, but what about her sisters whose husbands weren't nice to them and whose necks and arms were bruised from their men's roughness? What about Mama? It was a mighty big decision leaving behind everything she loved.

Tommy looked at her with earnest eyes. His eyes were very blue, like the bluest blue sky in summer. Tommy was her best friend. She remembered the times he would come to her after his papa had beaten him. Then she'd take him down to the stream at the end of the embankment not far from the farmhouse and bathe his back. His papa was like most men in the district. If Tommy incurred his papa's wrath, he'd get the belt soon enough.

Tom had talked so many times of running away from home. Why? She thought because he didn't fit in. He never had. Neither did she, heaven forbid that she should. Her sisters were ill-treated by their husbands. She was the only one not married. The others had all been farmed out to the nearest drunken slob.

But Tommy had always dreamed of the stars. Since they were children he would lie in the field on his back, his hands behind his head, chewing on his beloved reed. Then, if it wasn't raining he'd gaze up at the bright blue sky with a faraway look in his eyes. His papa didn't understand much about his own son, and he never could say what it meant when Tommy got that look. And Tommy wouldn't say anything either. He only ever told her what he was thinking about because she never laughed at his outlandish ideas.

"I could fly an aeroplane, Katie. Maybe not now, but one day. Not here, though. Papa wants me to take over the farm. I hate the farm. You know how I hate the place. I want to be...up there..." he'd say, pointing to the sky.

Her sisters couldn't read and write much; she had always run off with Tommy and begged him to teach her to read and write too. Once, it was only for two years, her mama had sent her to live with her Aunt Mairy in a seaside village. Aunt Mairy was her mama's younger sister; when she lived there, her aunt had always said her mama married beneath their name. She knew her Mama wasn't happy much of the time because she never smiled very often. Katie never heard her mother laugh.

It was Aunt Mairy who taught her advanced reading, the art of writing, even mathematics.

"We have all been educated, Katie O'Clair, even your mother. But your father..."

"He doesn't believe women should have knowledge?"

"Aye. Then they'd get too stroppy for his liking, making too many demands."

"Is that..." Katie had paused as she looked up from the book she had been reading - a novel by George Eliot called Silas Marner, "why he never sent any of us to school, Aunt Mairy?"

"That is why your Papa doesn't like me much, Katie O'Clair. He can't stand a woman speaking up. I once wrote him to ask that he send you to school at least. Know what he said? About women? They're good only for procreation and farming. They should know their place and do the husband's bidding. They should not think!"

Katie had been holding the book with the cover visible to her.

"George Eliot was a woman, Aunt Mairy. There are now many more women who are in medicine, science, journalism...the world is opening up for us..."

"That is so. But we have a long way to go, Katie, before women will be accepted as equals in every aspect of life."

"Even the vote?"

"Even the vote." Aunt Mairy smiled. It was an enigmatic smile, like she knew that one day it would happen.

"I love you, Aunt Mairy...very much." She had put down her book and hugged the kind woman who looked a lot like her own mother.

"Your Mama did a very brave thing, Katie O'Clair, in sending you here. It was the first time she ever went against your father's wishes..."

Katie sighed as she looked up at the sky. Aunt Mairy had died two years ago, and that was the end of a great partnership. She had been to school for the two years and learnt a great deal. She could read, write, do Math, knew history and world events. She was grateful to her aunt.

She got to be almost cleverer than Tommy who had completed his schooling. That was something her own papa and mama couldn't understand either. They wanted their girls to stay home and work around the house doing the laundry, farming with chickens and pigs and potatoes, and prepare themselves for marriage and babies - lots of babies. But she had always had a 'head for figures' as her mother said. Papa had shown his displeasure when she went to live with Aunt Mairy and got an education, but Mama had been adamant that it would do her good. When she returned from her aunt after two years, Mama was thinking differently. Katie was a little wild, she said. Katie was too pretty, she said. Katie looked educated, she said. Education made Katie superior, she said. How was Katie going to get a man now?

Katie always thought that having a brain that worked automatically made her wild in the eyes of those who didn't understand her need and thirst for knowledge. So Mama looked like she was sorry ever sending her to Aunt Mairy. Once, when they had all been to church and the village schoolmaster took one look too long at her - him being a married man - her mama threatened to send her away to a convent because "you look too awful pretty to lure them young men to you like a bee to a honey pot."

She wanted to tell her mama then that bees make honey. She told her mama it was wrong to want to hide her from society. She asked Mama what's wrong with being independent? She walked around for days with her eyes black and blue from the way her papa slapped her face for being rude to Mama. Tommy had seen it and come every day to the house. Then they'd walk to the stream and lie on the bank and look up at the sky. Tommy never seemed to mind that he himself walked around with his back full of scars, but he got angry every time when he had to soothe and bathe her arms and legs and back when her papa got after her. Funny how they never sent Tommy away from The Craggs, but that was because his papa was their papa's friend and his papa was one fearsone man who was once in the army; it was because they thought with Tommy, she was safe.

She took every opportunity she could get to read, because it was her window to the world. Once she had tried to read poetry, but found it hard to understand. If only she could meet someone who could teach her to understand it! Yet, she had found a poem in one of Aunt Mairy's books that sounded so beautiful that she cried just at the sound of its beauty.

_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..._

At least she knew some Mathematics, not just arithmetic of fractions and subtraction, multiplication, but simple Algebra and Geometry, of which she developed a clear understanding. How often did she work with Tommy finding solutions for equations? She could never understand why she was different. Whenever they had a young man lined up for her, she'd say no, she wasn't interested in getting married yet. She wanted to fall in love and marry one day, knowing that the man she married must be just as much in love with her as she would be with him, that there would be mutual respect, faith and trust. It was a tall order, but didn't she deserve to be loved?

"He'll be good for you, Katie O'Clair," her papa would say. "We must arrange for your marriage soon. He has a big farm up north."

"But I don't love him!" she would answer.

"You will marry, Katie O'Clair, and soon too. Your sisters are all married and they have children."

She didn't want to remind Papa that Linny's baby died in child birth, that Linny almost died from losing so much blood and that Linny's husband thought it was fine if he could make her pregnant again quickly. Linny walked around looking ill most of the time.

She didn't want that for her. She wanted a man to love her for herself, and to respect her as a wife and as a woman. There didn't seem to be a man in all Ireland who could be like that. She tried to stall her Papa as long as she could. Now that Justin Riley had moved into the area, Papa instantly thought of him as a husband for his only unmarried daughter. It didn't matter that he was a widower and it didn't matter that stories followed him into the county about his dead wife and how she came to her unfortunate end.

Kathleen wanted to marry for love.

Maybe that was why they didn't like her very much. She didn't think her father loved her mother very much either, but they had six daughters. She was the third eldest. Linny, Erin and Niamh were all younger than her and were married. Linny was the youngest and she had already had a stillborn baby and was heavy with child again. Linny looked washed out and she was only eighteen. At that age, she, Katie, had spent her time reading, writing letters to newspapers in London, dreaming about a world out there that was waiting for her to discover it.

The men were rugged farm types who preferred not to think. She shrank away from men like that. Tommy was more refined. He respected her as a person. He could draw; he liked to dress clean and he had a brain that worked. He read books and studied the stars because one day, "who knows, I might walk on the moon..."

"Oh, go on, Tommy Kiernan, whoever thought of walking on the moon? Do you know how far away it is?"

Why she bothered to ask Tommy that, she never knew. She always fell into the trap that would get Tommy talking non-stop about spreading his wings, about the moon and the stars and about the small telescope his uncle, who was in the Navy, had given him. She knew almost as much as Tommy about the moon and the stars, but she also knew about Jules Verne, about the French Revolution, about Jane Austen and the Brontes, about Marie Curie.

After Aunt Mairy died, Justin Riley moved into the district. She had gone with her father to meet him. After that, Justin Riley invited her to visit him more often. Sometimes she took Tommy with her. Riley scared her a little. But he had something no one else she knew had, except Aunt Mairy, whose books she inherited. There weren't many books, but they were her pride and joy. Justin Riley had a little library.

Only Tommy knew how she'd go to that widower Justin Riley's house to look after his two small boys, just to get into his library to read his books. The first time he found her in the library, he made her a bargain. Kathleen wanted to press her palms against her ears and close her eyes at the shame of being kissed by Justin Riley, or being mauled by his rough hands. That day she decided being mauled by him just to read his books was not worth her dignity and her preservation. She was not going to sell her soul to the devil.

Two weeks ago she had run from his house, run like mad over the meadows and straight into Tommy's arms where he waited for her at the hedge that adjoined their farms. She was so out of breath that she thought she would faint. She had been hysterical then. Tommy had walked her to their special spot near the stream and calmed her down. He saw the marks, saw how her the bodice of her dress was torn and saw the scratches on her breasts. She had been ashamed and tried to cover her bosom.

"Just to read his books... Damn it all! It's not worth it, Katie O'Clair. It's not worth it..." Tommy had been angry. "You are better than that, Katie. You deserve better. It's not worth it..." he repeated his litany. Tommy was as angry as she had ever seen him. His blue eyes looked like they were on fire, or they were shooting sparks.

"Thomas to Kathleen... Thomas to Kathleen..."

She woke from a deep dream. At first the sky had been hazy but it became clear again. Tommy was looking at her, smiling. His eyes looked merry. Playfully, she pulled his ivy cap right over his eyes.

"Thank you for waking me up like that, Tommy Kiernan." She laughed, relieved to be looking at him again, but wondering what the last thing was that he said. Then she sobered a little. Aunt Mairy had given her money and she had hidden it away in a small box under her bed. She had also saved some money Mama had given her every week. It wasn't much, but enough to buy her a ticket and a few other things, even a little to save.

"So are we going to make the move, Katie?" Tommy asked as he shifted his cap again to look at her. His eyes were piercing. She was a little afraid. She'd never be able to do it alone although Tommy had given her a lot of confidence to leave behind everything that she loved. She loved her country, but she knew that she could never be the wife of Justin Riley who was rich, but whom they said, had killed his wife.

"I'm a little afraid, Tommy," she admitted. "I might never see Ireland again. It scares me..."

"Look, Katie, you're a woman. I'm a man. For me it's probably easier, being a man, able to travel alone. I know what I'm going to do when I get there. There's a lot I want to do. There's a lot _you_ want to do. You... you have the heart and soul of a writer - " Katie wanted to stop him, but he took her hand in his own and kissed the back of it. "I know you write letters and articles to newspapers in London, Katie. Don't think I don't know. I know you are writing a have the heart of an eagle, an eagle that spreads its wings and cuts through the skies - free...free, Katie O'Clair. I've seen your sisters. It seems they have stopped laughing altogether. You can't have their life, not here, not in Ireland. You deserve better, Katie. You deserve to spread your wings because, Katie O'Clair, you have the best damned pair of wings I ever saw, and it hurts me right here..." Tommy pressed his hand against his heart. "It hurts me right here that you might never get to spread your wings..."

Katie had tears in her eyes. It was the longest speech Tommy had ever made.

"I love you, Thomas Eugene Kiernan. When I get to New York and I marry the man of my dreams, who's going to love me for who I am, then you can be the godfather to my first-born son."

"I want that, Katie," Thomas vowed. "I want that very much, because I never want to lose contact with the best friend who ever lived in Ireland."

"When do we make the move?"

"On Friday morning, when I cart the milk into Dublin, I'll go to the offices of the White Star Line and book us passage to New York. I'll see you on Friday night, Katie. Your folks don't mind if I sit with you in your room, and then we can talk about what to take with us, that sort of thing..."

Tommy sounded so enthusiastic. His eyes were alive. He wanted to get away as much as she did. She felt lighter than she had in weeks. The thought of Justin Riley pinching and mauling her again was distasteful. Her papa didn't know that side of the man, who put on a mask of decency when he visited their farm sometimes. When Papa wasn't looking, Justin's eyes would be on her and she swore there was lust in them that had nothing to do with respect or caring. That image alone was enough to send her running to the land of Dreams.

May 5 1899 - The Craggs

It was early evening, just after supper when Katie went to her room to read. She had a small book collection of which she was very proud. As long as she kept them out of the way of her parents, it was fine. She had washed the dishes and scrubbed the kitchen floor 'til she could eat off it. Her dress sleeves were rolled above her elbow and she had tucked in her unruly hair with pins.

She had never liked wearing an apron and incurred Mama's wrath because she got her house dress dirty more often than not. She had always thought if she wore one, she'd look like a servant, and they were most horribly treated, especially Ceara who worked on Justin Riley's farm. Katie's heart sank at the thought of poor Ceara. She knew that Justin forced her into his bed sometimes, though she never spoke a word. It was a hard life and Ceara, though she suffered, endured because she was so poor and had to fend not only for herself, but three younger siblings and her sickly mother.

She was expecting Tommy in an hour. She couldn't wait for news. She had given him enough and more of her savings for her ticket to America. Her heart raced at the prospect of traveling so far from home. She had never traveled outside Ireland, and it made her sad knowing that there was a world out there her parents ignored. They knew about that world, only they simply ignored it. They were content where they were, which was in itself not a bad thing. Many people liked staying in one place.

She knew about Paris, about the Eiffel Tower, about next year's World Exhibition where they would also have the Olympic Games as part of the Exhibition. She knew about Egypt now and Egypt then; about China and Japan, about the New World which people called the United States. So many things her parents denied themselves.

Katie lounged on her bed with her book about the fortunes of Heatchliff and Catherine when there was a knock on her door and Tommy entered.

"Katie!" he cried out, but kept his voice low, "it's so good to see you!" She knew why he spoke like that. Mama and Papa were likely to listen while her bedroom door had to remain open. Tommy wore his ever present newsboy cap, and over his faded trousers held on his body with a pair of braces, he wore a faded jacket with patches at the elbows. Faded but neat. She liked him like that. His hand dug into an inside pocket.

"You've got it?" she asked softly, sliding off the bed and closing her door.

"Two tickets to New York. We must board the Britannic in Liverpool. The journey will be eight days..." He showed her the tickets. She studied them.

"So much!" she exclaimed.

"So what, Katie? We're not rich. But we both have enough left over to pay for accommodation and food over the first few weeks. We stick together, right?"

"Oh, Tommy! I'm getting butterflies already. We're leaving on the 10th of May! Today is the 5th!"

"That's okay. Now listen, here's what we've got to do..." Tommy dug into his inside pocket again and brought out a stack of papers.

"What is that?"

"Papers to apply for immigration to the United States..." Tommy kept his eyes on her, studying her expression. She felt herself growing pale.

"We're never coming back?"

"Maybe one day, who knows? There are no guarantees, Katie."

She had tried to swallow her distress. The reality was beginning to hit her hard. They were leaving, making another country their home, their new heimat. Outside it was getting darker, but she could still discern the huge oak standing side by side with a chestnut tree. They were her favourite trees. There was the swing… She remembered how she and Linny and Niamh had played under the trees, how they had sat in the swing, swaying gently back and forth on rare days in summer when the weather was good and the sun bathed their faces in goodness. She remembered Mama coming outside and bringing a big glass jug of lemonade she'd made with fresh lemons from the lemon tree in the backyard. Those days when Mama smiled she loved her mother with fierce pride. Suddenly, she couldn't see the trees anymore for the tears that filled her eyes.

No more trees, no more green grass of Ireland, no more chestnuts and oaks, no more icicles that formed lacy patterns over the eaves of the front porch of the house. No more would she see their dogs bounding through the snow towards her and patting her with their wet paws as they jumped up against her.

She turned to face Tommy. He looked worried.

"You're not changing your mind, Katie," he whispered, and he too, looked like he was going to cry. "We made a promise, remember?"

"A promise..." she repeated.

Then a vision assailed her of her papa smacking her black and blue because she was too clever for her boots. She saw again Justin Riley's lustful eyes on her. She felt again his nails digging into her breasts as he tore her bodice away, his teeth on her skin, her mouth. Mama thought it was Tommy who had kissed her so that her lips were bleeding and didn't say anything. She'd seen her Papa and Justin together only yesterday, talking about an agreement which would benefit the O'Clairs financially when Justin Riley and Kathleen Eileen O'Clair married. The deal was made. They never asked her, never consulted her. She saw Linny's unsmiling, unhappy face and closed her eyes. She saw Niamh, whose eyes looked forever sad because the man she loved was not her husband, but a childhood sweetheart. She saw Erin, only a year younger than her, but with three children already, Erin who was with child again. Her elder sisters had moved to Dublin, but their lives were not roses either with their alcoholic husbands. No, not for all of beautiful Ireland would she want that life. She deserved better than the drudgery she knew would be her life if she stayed.

"So, Katie?" Tommy asked softly as he saw the struggle in her transform into a final resolve.

"Yes... Yes, let's go. I'm to marry Justin Riley on the 20th May."

"On your birthday?"

"Yes."

"We'll be away by then. Now, here's what I propose we do about packing your belongings..."

They spent the next few minutes talking about luggage, occasionally breaking out in laughter. It was a good way to distract her parents. Her papa never worried about Tommy being in her room or coming at all hours to the house. Once, when they had been younger, she had seen her papa looking at Tommy with a great deal of longing in his eyes. She had realised then that he missed having a son. With six daughters and the four times mama had lost babies after Linny was born, there was never going to be a son to carry the name of O'Clair, so Papa always welcomed Tommy to The Craggs.

"I received payment for all my articles I wrote to London newspapers. I've managed to save it in a bank in Dublin. Mama and Papa don't know about it..."

"Good. That way when we get there, you can draw all your money. We're going to need every penny."

"And I shall have to..." Katie's voice became soft, and she was overcome by great sadness again.

"What is it, Katie?" Tommy asked, looking again very worried. He always licked his upper lip when he was worried.

"My book..."

"You will finish it in the New World. It can be published there, I think," Tommy suggested.

"I suppose so."

"What's it called?"

"It doesn't have a title yet, though it soon will have."

"Fine, if you don't want to tell your best friend."

"You're in it, don't worry."

"I am, Katie O'Clair? Thomas Eugene Kiernan is in your book? Why, that's mighty fine. Mighty fine."

Katie laughed at Tommy's comical expression. She couldn't imagine her life without Tommy Kiernan. Even so, she knew that if ever she were to meet a man who would love and respect her for herself and who could understand her vision and her drive, she would want Tommy to be a part of her life, as godfather and uncle to her children in the New World. He was going to be the only family she would have there.

"Godfather to my first-born son, remember?"

"How can I forget?" Tommy's eyes were smiling again, the grey clouds that had darkened them moments before, suddenly gone. "Now, Katie, I'll come one evening, when everyone's sleeping, right by your window to collect your luggage. I'll store it in our barn for a day or two. I'll be by your window again on the morning we leave. The cart will be waiting by the end of the lane just outside your farm gate. We're going by horse and cart into Dublin. Then we'll take a boat to Liverpool - "

"I've never been to Liverpool..." she said wonderingly.

"The cattle ship takes eight hours to cross the Irish Sea. The _Britannic _sails in the late afternoon.

Katie threw herself into his arms. "Oh, Tommy, you have to pinch me. I can't believe we're going to do this. It - it's a big step..."

"Then you'd better spend the next few days saying goodbye to Ireland, Katie O'Clair," he responded soberly. They were quiet a long time, sunken in their thoughts that roamed all over The Craggs and Ravensmead. All over Ireland they trod her grassy knolls and rolling hills, listened to her rivers, and the waves breaking against her rocky shores, sheep bleating in the foggy distance. They watched her clouds sailing silently by the full moon.

"We'll never see these clouds again..." Katie murmured softly.

"On Sunday night...your luggage, Katie O'Clair..."

Sunday 7 May 1899

_Dear Diary_

_It is Sunday, already almost the hour of midnight. My candle is burning very low, but my mind is not bothered by the weak light as it guides my hand to write these words. In another hour my luggage will be collected by Tommy. Tommy will hide it where nobody will ever look for it. _

_I feel displaced. I am here and not here. Isn't that a strange thing to say? A paradox, perhaps? It is as if I'm already saying goodbye to my beloved country and feel myself lifted to the clouds of Ireland, to be carried away over the ocean where I will make another country my own. The thought scares me at the same time as it excites my very being. _

_It is so hard to leave, but you understand, don't you? If I stay, I know how impossible it is to be the woman I desire and to be a person in my own right, equal to any man. I desire that my interest, my drive and my vision be respected by all. _

_I am saying goodbye to my people, and even though it hurts me that they could never see me as an independent being with a life that is mine, I will miss them. I will miss Papa even though he slapped and spanked me at times. I will miss Mama. She loves me, I think. Sometimes I saw in her eyes how Eileen O'Clair had the same look I had when I walked off to the edge of The Craggs' boundary and dreamed by the brook. A dreamy look. That was it. Did Mama also have the desires I have? I shall miss my sisters, especially Linny who deserves happiness. I feel most worried about her and pray that one day happiness will be hers too. _

_I will remember this country forever, don't worry. I will miss all the songs of Ireland, all the songs I used to sing with my sisters when we were still small. _

_But I have to go. You understand that, don't you? There is in me a need to fulfill my destiny, to explore everything in me as a person. Away from home, and away from a union with a man who will never appreciate me, who will abuse me, and abuse my body. Tommy is right. I am an eagle ready to spread its wings and look at the world with new eyes. I want Paris, I want New York, I want Egypt and the history of the world._

_I want my life._

Kathleen had never had much of a conversation with her mother. Eileen O'Clair had never sought her out to talk with her, unless it was to give orders about how the farmhouse had to be kept clean, things to do about the farm, milking their cow, washing and peeling potatoes, helping with the newborn lambs, scrubbing floors. Even now that she was the only daughter still living in the house, Mama kept herself to one side. She never mentioned her sister Mairy, who'd died two years ago; Katie would so much have loved to talk to her mother about that.

Even if she herself wanted to talk, the way Mama would stiffen and then shrug, hurt very much. Not very often would they go into Dublin where they would look at dresses together, because Katie was in need of a dress or chemise or hat. Most times they could only look, because everything was too expensive. But looking was just as good as dreaming, and she wanted to dream aloud too, sometimes. Those times her mother wouldn't talk much, and Katie had to be satisfied with the small exchange of answering 'yes' and 'no'. Sometimes, "I think this will suit you, Katie..." or "we could drink some coffee somewhere," made her lightheaded with happiness, the way Mama's eyes lit up. Most of the time though when she burned to talk, Mama walked away.

Katie always suspected it was because her mother felt intimidated by her and it distressed her that her mother could feel like that. It wasn't really that unusual. It happened often when the child became the intellectual and left the parents behind. Then it seemed as if the parents couldn't ever talk to them on a certain level. It was clear that Eileen O'Clair would never open her mouth, for what would she talk about if she didn't know anything about the world outside 'The Craggs'?

Sometimes she had seen her mother give her a penetrating look as if she were on the point of saying something but changed her mind, lest she shame herself. Katie missed talking. Didn't Mama realise that there were so many other things they could share? Everyday little things, things that could make two girls giggle, just women things? No, Eileen O'Clair kept herself to herself.

So it was very unusual, strange and surprising that Eileen O'Clair, on the day before she and Tommy had to leave for Dublin and leave Ireland forever, came to her room. Papa had gone to Justin's farm for a visit and they were alone in the house.

"Katie, would - would you walk with me outside, please?"

Her heart fluttered nervously. What did Mama want? As Mama had just turned and walked out again she followed her mother outside. It was another balmy day in which the sun bathed them in spring warmth. They were quiet as she let her mother lead the way. Down, towards the edge of The Craggs, to the little silver stream at the bottom of the embankment where so often she had walked herself when the house became too constricted for her. She could hear the water as it rushed gently over ancient pebbles. Katie wore an old house dress with large pockets, no apron. Her best dresses had been packed and Tommy had already hidden her luggage so it didn't matter much that her skirts trailed on the dirty ground.

By the stream her mother stopped. Eileen O'Clair was already grey, although once her hair had been the same burnished gold of her daugher. She and her mother were the only ones with exactly the same colour hair, the same eyes - grey-green on warm days. Mama turned to face the hills in the distance, and once again Katie felt like being shut out. The rushing water faded to a faraway sound and the calling birds had fluttered off an eternity ago.

"Mama?"

"I know what you're going to do, Katie O'Clair," her mother said matter-of-factly.

That gave Katie an almighty jolt. Her heart stood still for a second, then started pounding furiously. Her mother kept her eyes on the hills. She wished Mama would look at her, wished she could see her face.

"What is it that I'm going to do, Mama?" she asked, stalling for time.

"By this time tomorrow, you will have left Ireland, Katie."

Eileen turned at last and looked at her with pain-filled eyes. Her hair was tied back in a bun, and loose strands fell about her face. She looked tired - beautiful and tired as she studied Katie for endless moments, never dropping her gaze.

"Please don't stop me, Mama," she pleaded.

"Of all my girls, Katie O'Clair, you are the only one who challenged your papa, who braved his displeasure, even endured being slapped and hit by him..."

"Let me explain, Mama," she said, feeling as if all Ireland was opening beneath her feet to swallow her whole. A chasm had sprung up and she was afraid to look down. "I have to - "

"Do you know how much I admired you, Katie?" Eileen's face became suddenly animated, the tiredness less obvious. "You had the courage none of us had; you went ahead and fought for what you wanted, without asking anyone's help, because, my darling child, none of us could give it, or wanted to... " Eileen looked away again, thoughtful in her expression. Katie said nothing, too shocked at her mother's revelation, just the fact that she was talking was such a shock. Eileen met her gaze again. There was a gentle smile that hovered about her lips. The transformation was stunning. She reached to touch Katie's cheek. "You started talking very early, did you know? You said 'Eileen' when you were barely nine months old. When you looked at the odd papers we had in the house - mostly of which was used to wrap the meat we brought from the butcher in Dublin - you would stare at the words for hours. No one could stop you. I taught you only the basics, what I knew. It was all I knew, not much, anyway. You just did everything so quickly. I couldn't help you more then. That's why I let you play with Tommy at his house so often." Eileen pressed her hand against her bosom. "And it hurt so much that others taught you to read and write properly and do math, those things...which I..."

Tears streamed down her mother's face; it was as if a dam had broken and all the water overflowed, rushing out in great torrents. She didn't even ask how her mother knew about her journey...

"I have sensed your restlessness for a long, long time, Katie. Your papa thought it was that you couldn't wait to get married. But I knew you looked at the world around you with different eyes. You have a thirst for knowledge that could never be extinguished. You love books. Don't think I don't know you have a few that you hide from everyone in your room..."

Her mother's face became a blur as tears filled her eyes.

"How did you know, Mama? That I would leave?"

"I always thought you'd want to go to Dublin at least. But Dublin would have stifled you."

"Please, don't stop me," she said again. "I love you, Mama... Don't stand in the way of my freedom. I know I must marry Justin in two weeks' time. But I can't! I do not love him!" Her words became impassioned, and her mother moved for the first time, pulling Katie into her embrace. They stood like that, both of them weeping. Later, when Katie stood back, her mother smiled at her. Then she dug into the pocket of her apron and pulled out something. She handed the small packet to Katie.

"It's the money I saved from the milk and the lemons and my little potato patch. You will need it, Katie..."

"Mama?"

"I know the time you must leave is early in the morning. I've heard a ship called the _Britannic _leaves Liverpool for New York."

"Mama?"

"Do not look so surprised, Katie. I am saying my goodbye to you now, for I love you so much, you don't know how much! I can't get up at four in the morning and not alert your papa, you understand? Now will have to do. Go with God, my child. Be happy always and be the person you couldn't be here."

"I love you, Mama."

Eileen O'Clair smiled a gentle smile that changed her face, taking years off her age. She touched Katie's cheek again in a light caress.

"There, there, child. You will always be in my heart. Always."

She threw herself against her mother and wept forlornly. Her mother, a woman she'd hardly ever understood, who understood her so well, well enough to know that she was a daughter of Ireland. A woman who understood that she was also a daughter who needed to go, whose destiny it was to spread her wings.

With tear-stained eyes she looked at her mother minutes later. Eileen O'Clair hooked Katie's arm through hers and together they roamed the farm, walked to every beloved corner of it, took in its sights, its sounds, committed it to her memory. They talked, sometimes breaking out into bright laughter. It was a miracle to hear her mother laugh. It was a sound she would remember for the rest of her life. She knew she would, for that late afternoon when mother and daughter found one another and knew that it might be the last time they would see each other, they became the friends that had been denied them for so long.

She was her mother's daughter, more than any of her sisters. Not only did she resemble Eileen O'Clair, but she was convinced now that in other, subtle ways, she was so like her mother. It was a discovery that came on the eve of her departure, so late... So late! She told her mother about Paris, about all the places she read in newspapers and books, about the articles she had written for London newspapers, and how the editors paid her for those articles. It was the rolling away of the great boulder that freed her spirit.

"I know you will marry one day, Katie. I know you will only be happy if you marry a man whom you love and who loves you exactly the same."

"I will not specifically look for one, Mama."

"I know. But know this - love comes so unexpectedly, you have to keep a good head about you not to lose sight of all the things you planned for yourself..."

"Oh, I will do everything, Mama. Tommy and I will be together. I don't love him, you know."

"I always hoped that you would come to love him."

"I know now why you hoped that, Mama. He would always understand my heart."

"That is because he shares your vision, sweet, tough, gentle Katie."

"Maybe you should never have bathed us in the same tub when we were wee little children, barely out of nappies."

"Aye. You are right there. You have grown too accustomed to one another to have fallen in love."

"He'll find someone..."

"I do not doubt that."

They stopped, looked at one another, then hugged again fiercely before they treaded a path home.

It was in a much lighter mood that she and Mama prepared supper, for Liam O'Clair would be home. A real creature of habit, he preferred his wife's cooking, preferred being in his own home at supper time. The day had died and now the dining room was bathed in the golden glow of candles.

Katie looked around her, thinking that soon she would not see the room again, or the family portraits hanging above the fireplace. Sad at the thought and at the same time excited, she laid the table. Her mother's table linen, hand-embroidered, starched and pristine white, graced the table. She gave a little smile, thinking that her papa would probably ask what the occasion was, to which Mama, with her soft voice, would say that they hadn't taken out the fineries for a long time and that they needed airing. She knew her father would just mumble about waste of time and effort and money.

Mama was in the kitchen, and to Katie's wonder, was humming a Celtic song, a haunting melody that drifted towards her. She felt at peace, now that she had made her peace. The old grandfather clock went on ticking, the swinging pendulum lazily joining the rhythm of the melody.

"Mama, you really love that tune!"

"The first time I heard it, I knew I was going to name one of my daughters 'Kathleen'."

In one of his rare moments of generosity, Liam O'Clair had acquired a gramophone. It was a new invention, hardly 25 years old, but Mama fell in love with it. Linny, Erin and Niamh were still living in the house and to appease them mostly, Kathleen thought, he went overboard and purchased the gramophone together with a few records. They didn't eat proper meals for weeks after that, but it was worthwhile. He believed it created a better mood in which they would never object to his choice of husband when he was matchmaking. It was her mother's passion, and whenever they were in Dublin, which happened to be very rare, she had used the few spare pennies to buy records shipped over from London. Her mother had always hummed tunes when she thought no one was within earshot, and at night, listening to records was a highlight.

Katie smiled as her mother entered the dining room with a steaming tureen.

"Papa's going to suspect, Mama. I don't think we - "

"Don't worry, Katie. Listen, I can hear the cart. No, two carts... Odd, don't you think?"

"I think we might have visitors tonight, Mama."

Eileen sighed. Katie knew her mother had wanted to spend the last hours with her.

Her father was the first to poke his head through the door leading to the dining room. He smiled and Katie frowned.

"Papa?"

"Well, Katie, look who's here, come to share our meal with us. I see you've prepared and brought out Mama's fine crockery and table cloth."

Katie's eyes were glued to the door. To her father she had given a perfunctory greeting. Justin Riley came through smiling, and he was followed by a stranger. She had never seen the man, but disliked him on sight.

"Hello, Kathleen. This here is my friend Michael Sullivan. He hails from Fairhaven."

"Welcome to our house, Michael," she said softly, then bade them sit down at the table. Justin had been carrying a large, flat box which he placed on the vacant chair next to him.

"Well, aren't you men coming to the kitchen to wash your hands?" her mother said through the door.

The men rose again and filed into the kitchen where a large bowl of water waited. Her mother always reminded Papa to wash his hands. As soon as the men were busy, her mother scurried to her side. Katie's head started to swim. Something awful was going to happen, she just knew it. Michael looked evil, just like Justin Riley. Sick to her stomach, she looked at Eileen.

"Mama...?"

"I swear I never knew they were coming, Katie," her mother whispered as she removed her apron.

"I don't know that other man. He looks oily, like he serves stale beer in a dirty pub..."

"Says his name is Michael Sullivan from Fairhaven..."

"No, sure I don't know of any Michael Sullivan, dearie. Come, let's sit down. Your papa will begin to wonder..."

Minutes later the men came in and sat down at the table. Eileen folded her hands and bowed her head, beginning softly to say grace. Katie stared at Justin and wondered how he could befriend Michael. On the outside at least Justin was a refined man, something completely lacking in Michael. His unshaven, aggressive appearance and rough hands made her wonder if he indulged in the street-fighting she had heard of.

When Eileen finished grace, they ate in silence. She kept looking at Justin and his friend in turn, kept wondering at this new, sudden and unlikely alliance. Michael said little, just mumbled under his breath while he ate. She also wondered about the large box. A wave of dread filled her. She couldn't let her plans fail now. She stole a glance at her mother who was occupied with eating her food. Only her father kept up some inane chatter. Whatever it was that brought them here tonight, was going to wait until the meal was over.

She endured the tension that filled the room, the terrible sense of doom that was raised to her mouth with every lift of her fork. When the clock struck eight, Katie helped her mother to clear the table. In the kitchen she gripped her mother's arm.

"Mama, something's up, I think. They're planning something. I don't like the looks of it..." she whispered urgently.

"Katie, if you're going to show anything in there now to provoke your papa or Justin... Just keep your head..."

"I'll try, Mama. I'll try," she said, but her heart was beating in her throat.

"Now, Katie, you will be married to Justin Riley," her father said as soon as they were all seated again. Justin smiled broadly. "We planned it for your birthday on the 20th of this month."

Justin cleared his throat, a grunting sound. "I have been to London last week, and I bought you this..." he said, lifting the box from the chair and putting it on the table. "There, open it..."

She looked at her mother, then at her father, saw Michael's malevolent glare before she removed the lid. Lifting the soft white paper carefully, a white dress was revealed. She gave a small gasp, because the white was white as the snowy clouds, and lacy too. The dress was beautiful. She pulled out the dress and heard her mother's gasp, Papa's exclamation of delight and Michael's groan. Justin looked expectant.

"Come, child," she heard Mama's voice coming from a distance, "I think they expect you to try on your wedding dress."

Katie tried her best not to look stunned or show her misery. She smiled tightly and nodded to Justin in a kind of 'thank-you' way, then escaped with the box to her room. Her mother padded after her.

In her bedroom, before she could give a cry of distress, Eileen O'Clair clamped a hand over her mouth. She breathed hard into her mother's palm, her eyes hurting from the reality of what was going to happen, of what she was expected to do. Slowly Mama removed her hand.

"Mama, you know I can't marry Justin!"

"Shhh...little one. It is two weeks away. By this time tomorrow you will be on the open sea - "

"But Mama, why do I feel as if something's going to go wrong?"

"Nothing will, Katie. I am on your side..." Her mother's words calmed her nerves as she removed her old dress and put on the wedding dress. It fitted her perfectly. It also looked like it cost a lot of money. "Holy mother..." Eileen whispered, "you look so beautiful..." The older woman's eyes filled with tears. This time Katie consoled her mother.

"Don't cry, Mama. We'll get through this. Dry your tears now. We have to pretend that my wedding day is everything I want and more..."

"Oh, Katie... Do you think I don't know how Linny is suffering? And Erin and Niamh? Your eldest sister... She is having a hard time, you know. They do not have the respect of their husbands... I - I have lived long enough, Katie, to understand your papa a little. He's a hard man who missed having sons. But you... you have every chance of success. You are an eagle, an eagle that takes to the skies with wings that hover in the wind. You are that. Yes, you are..."

"Come, Mama," Katie said, her voice sounding calm now, without the distress of earlier in it. She knew that she would be long gone by the time she was supposed to marry Justin. She took a deep breath, took her mother's still trembling hand in hers and led her to the dining room. Her papa was biting his pipe between his teeth. Justin and Michael smoked cigarettes, and Michael coughed loudly as if he choked on the smoke. The talking stopped instantly and her papa rose to his feet. Justin stood up as well, whistling softly.

"There'd be no better looking bride in all of Ireland, Mr O'Clair," Justin announced. "Just look at her!"

Katie endured their looks. Justin walked round the table to her and turned her round, appraising her. It sickened her as she saw Michael's dark, brooding eyes. He hadn't shaved and looked uncouth. She remembered to stay calm, to think of the eagle flying high in the blue skies. She had to remember Tommy, Dublin, Liverpool, the _Britannic_, the Statue of Liberty... She winced as Justin pinched her bottom, laughing as he told them, "Firm as the Rock of Gibraltar, is my Katie."

Justin took his seat again, lit another cigarette and looked pointedly at her father. Her father gave a small cough, blustered as he rolled his cigar between thumb and forefinger. Smoke billowed about them, mixing with the tendrils that rose from the candles. The old man stood up. Katie looked at her mother in confusion and panic. Eileen O'Clair shrugged, just as confused.

"Katie, Eileen," Liam started, "I - uh..." he stopped, continued as Justin elbowed him. "I - uh...we uh...have decided to bring the wedding date forward."

"P-Papa?"

"Liam?"

"Katie, Justin and Michael felt it the best to do so. I agreed, since there is no point in waiting until the 20th of May."

"Liam! What are you talking about?" Eileen asked.

"The wedding will take place in the Holy Nativity Priory in Fairhaven Village...tomorrow."

END CHAPTER THREE


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

It was the darkness just before dawn broke sleepily on the horizon. Soon, if she looked back, she would see the soft glow of the morning sun swell into the sky beyond the hills. The horses trotted on the cobbled path towards the city, sniffing the air, snorting in protest as Tommy urged them to go faster. They found their way in the dark, keeping the cart flush over the camber of the road, with the wheels treading the elongated valley caused by years of wagons traveling the road to Dublin. Behind her, the milk cans clanked from the jolts as the wheels moved over the uneven road. She drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders, grimacing a little as she did so. The morning was still cold. Later when it became a little warmer, she would pack it away with the rest of her luggage.

Tommy was quiet, but occasionally she would glance at him. He appeared deep in thought. He was just as sad to be leaving, but he wanted to follow his heart, and his heart was in the New World, where he wanted to fly planes and one day be a part of something big. He was the adventurer who found living in the same place too restraining; he wanted to spread his wings. If anything, Tommy was more of the eagle, who wanted to be up in the air or be instrumental in great inventions and discoveries. If he were going to enter one of the universities there, that was what he was going to do, and she believed that he would find the means to do so. His parents had always wanted him to take over the Ravensmead land when they could no longer work the farm. Tommy had a different vision.

She tried to keep her thoughts focused on the surroundings, on the darkness, on Tommy, on their journey. They had passed a milestone that indicated they still had three miles to go. Only by the light of the fading moon could she discern it as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark.

"Where are we staying in Dublin before we board the boat to take us across to Liverpool? I must go to the bank too..."

"A small inn," Tommy had replied earlier. "Don't worry. The cattleship leaves at 10 o'clock. We'll be too early then."

"My two sisters and your sister live in Dublin. I doubt very much if we could go there..."

"Aye. They will come to Catriona's house first, or your sisters'."

"I understand." After that, their conversation had been stilted until it dried up completely, each one sunk in their thoughts. She was content to follow Tommy's suggestions. He had planned everything, down to where they'd stay, how long they'd wait until they left Dublin, the cabin he booked for them so that she didn't have to sit on the deck when they sailed from Dublin to Liverpool. They would leave the milk cart by the inn's stables, and only when they were on the ship and halfway across the Irish Sea, would anyone suspect anything.

She hoped fervently that nothing would happen when they got to the city. She was most afraid of Justin.

Last night...

Katie shook her head, turned her face to the sky and felt the cool air wash over her face. Her scalding tears, the memories of last night, blotted the beauty of the landscape.

Her papa's words, "We've decided the wedding will be tomorrow..."

Her heart had contracted and she had thought that she would faint from the shock. Her breath deserted her, fled in anguish from her body and she was overcome with dizziness. Mama had helped her to sit down on the chair. Mama, whose hands on her shoulder trembled. She didn't want to look at Mama, didn't want to look at Papa, or Justin or that evil Michael.

Mama had taken a napkin and dabbed her face.

"What is the matter with her, Eileen?" Papa asked.

"Mrs O'Clair, perhaps Katie should go and rest and prepare for tomorrow. The excitement has made her poorly, don't you think?" she heard Justin say.

"Tomorrow?" she asked weakly, her voice robbed of its strength, the shock still too strong. They knew, came the thought. They knew or sensed that she was planning something. How else could they have chosen the day of her departure for the wedding? She had always known that as long as she lived in her father's house, when she decided to marry, her choice of husband would never be hers. Even deciding to marry was not her choice. Her father had it all worked out. It was, she believed, to punish her.

"Yes. Michael must leave soon after for his home town, and Justin really wants him to be best man at your wedding."

"But Papa!" the words gushed from her, and suddenly she didn't care any more. Her dreams were about to be destroyed, her hopes of a life elsewhere, away from Papa's tyranny, in tatters. "I don't love him!" she cried in agony. "I don't love him! And if you cared enough, you would tell him I can't marry him!"

"Kathleen!" Papa's warning voice drowned Justin's. Justin had walked round to her and put his hands round her shoulder, trying to quieten her, but she was beyond caring. She felt how her hand was torn from her mother's. Her father pressed his fists down on the table.

"I won't marry him! I do not love him, Papa."

"Tomorrow it is," Liam O'Clair roared across the table. "What does love matter? You are twenty two. At that age your older sisters had three children. What is it with you? Every girl should marry and have babies. Every girl!"

"Kathleen, just think about it," Justin purred, "tomorrow you will be my bride and you can read all the books in my library, be mother to my motherless little boys. You know they like you..."

Justin's voice dripped with silk. If she had been any other woman, she would have crumbled at his persuasiveness and married him immediately. To Papa, he was the kindest man who breathed. Justin could do no wrong. Large tracts of absentee land lay between The Craggs and Inglenook. She had heard that Justin had won it in a game of poker from a down-and-out English wastrel. If she married Justin, her father would get the land. Her father was blind. Blind! Mama knew of Justin's treatment of her, the marks on her body, her bloodied lips, of Ceara who had little choice but to be his bed mate whenever he chose. Poor Ceara! She gasped as Justin's fingers dug cruelly into her skin.

Kathleen pulled herself out of his punishing grip and faced him. Her eyes felt full of heat and rage, with angry tears spilling over her heated cheeks. His freckles looked darker against his red face.

"Can't you understand it? I - don't - love - you! I won't marry you! I won't. You are a miserable, depraved man!"

"Katie!" her mama cried, as she gave a deep sob and rushed away from them to the sanctuary of her bedroom. She threw herself on the bed and sobbed her heart out. Mama's hand had stroked her hair, soothed her, hummed for her their precious tune again. She was wild with fear and anger but slowly, Mama's voice brought calm to her until her sobbing subsided. Without saying a word, her mama had helped her take off the wedding dress and put it away.

Footsteps sounded and stopped just inside the door of her bedroom.

"If I could have a word with Kathleen, Mrs O'Clair. I will not keep you long..." Katie's heart thudded, and her eyes begged her mother not to leave her alone with Justin. But her papa was waiting in the lounge and he was expecting his wife to join him. "Please..." Justin repeated in his silky voice reserved for decency. When Eileen left with a guarded look in her eyes, Justin closed the door. He took two steps forward and stopped abruptly; the decent expression changed, became flushed and angry..

"You fool woman," he hissed softly. "Don't you know what your father owes me? Don't you know I own him? You cannot get out of this. It is arranged, and I have a mighty need of a good bitch in heat to warm my bed."

"Justin, please leave my room."

"Like hell I will. You're mine, wench!"

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her roughly to him. She stifled a little cry of pain at the force of it. Her old dress was no protection as he ripped open the bodice and exposed her breasts. She tried to fight him off, beating his chest with her fists, but he laughed softly.

"Scream, and I'll tell your father you liked this," he panted hard, squeezing and kneading her breast. "I'll tell him you couldn't wait for me to fuck you."

She recoiled at his crudity, recoiled at the cruelty of his assault. Another cry, and before she knew it, Justin's mouth clamped on her breast and he started sucking. She tried to pull away from his cruel lips, but iron clamps of fists held her close to him, fingernails digging into her flesh. She fought him. As a blinding flash of pain shot through her, she realised that to resist would incense him and bring more pain. Somewhere, she heard her sister Linny cry. Somewhere, Niamh fled from the farm, only to be hauled back by her irate husband.

_This can't be me... Oh, Father in heaven... not for me...this manner of treatment_. Her mind whirled, then turned numb from terror.

His mouth was everywhere, wet and ugly and once he bit into her lips in a punishing kiss. There was no concern, no softness, no compassion, no kindness. She felt faint, images of nights and days in this man's arms, spent and ravaged like he was doing to her now. He pushed her down on the bed, his knee pinning her one leg under him, his hand pulling her dress up, nails scoring her skin as they clawed up along her thigh. Something was happening to her, something appalling. She tried to scream, but one hand clamped her mouth as the other hand dug into her, found and parted her violently. Fingers moved in her most sacred of places and gored roughly, tearing at her inner walls. She gasped, dying in a moment from the roughness of his entry. A blinding flash as pain seared through her. Something primal, an ancient instinct for self-preservation, gave her the strength she needed. Kathleen broke free of his imprisoning hand and in one final, hard push, blinded by her fear and anger, she propelled herself away from him and stood on the other side of her bed, pulling her dress about her.

"You are vile, Justin Riley. Go...leave my father's house..." she whispered as she tried to regain her composure, grabbing the shawl that had been lying on her pillow to pull protectively around her. Justin looked at her with heated eyes still crazed from passion. He pointed a finger at her.

"Tomorrow, you will be in my bed and I will show you who is the master. That was just a taste of what's to come, bitch. Your flesh wants me. It was begging for me. I could feel it. Now, don't disappoint me, little bird. I am going to keep you in my bed every day, and you are going to enjoy it."

She was too stunned to say anything, except to think that he was far more malevolent than she'd realised. Despite his education, despite his appearance of decency, he was a demented man who thought nothing of punishing her and violating her. Later she heard the carriage leave, the sound of horses' hooves growing dimmer until it died away. Between her legs it felt sticky and she knew that she was bleeding.

Hardly had she regained her composure when her door burst open. She looked up, startled. Her father was standing there and his nostrils were flaring. He was breathing hard and in his hand...

_Oh, God..._

The cold morning air fanned her cheeks that warmed up in their shame again. The wheels of the cart rolled mercilessly, forcing the continuing memories. Katie pulled her shawl tighter about her as she tried to close her eyes at that way her father stood in the door of her bedroom. But it forced itself into her conscious, making her relive those minutes.

"How dare you!" her father shouted. He turned and pushed her mother violently away from him. "Keep out of this, woman, or you will regret this night." She heard her mother's cries even as the door slammed close and her father advanced on her. The door flew open again.

"Liam! Leave her. She's suffered enough!" Liam O'Clair swung round and struck his wife across the face, pushed her violently away from the door and closed it. Then he turned on her again. He pulled away the shawl, saw the torn dress, the...

"Look at you, you little whore! How dare you disgrace me so? How dare you bring shame on me and my house?"

What did Justin tell her father? Liam O'Clair raised the horse whip.

"Papa! No!"

Then the blows rained on her. Her cheeks flamed at the inhuman treatment, her own shame, the leather thong searing, tearing tender skin as he branded her body. She couldn't fight back. She tried to shield her face, but the blows rained on her arms. She turned away from the whip, but it followed her. He flung her on the bed, and even as she bounced up, the blows landed. His fists, the whip... Katie screamed, yet in her crazed reaction to his torture she could hear her mother's cries. She could hear the door open and felt her mother pull her father away from her. But he kept coming, tearing her dress from her, tearing her underclothes... She wanted to die of shame as she lay before her father. Her body protested, her skin tore as the leather ate into it for endless minutes. Her father grunted, his breath rasped, her mother screamed. At some point her body stopped protesting, the blows became hazy. An image of the Christ as He was tortured... An image of a woman, burned at the stake...

_When will it end, dear mother of mine?_

_When will it end?_

_When will it end, dear father of mine, when?_

_This darkness hides not its pain_

_or its torture,_

_When will it end, dear sisters of mine?_

_When will it end, dear friend of mine?_

_Come, lift your eyes to me_

_and waver not from your chosen path, _

_Hear the breaking waves against the shore_

_and feel its salted tears upon your face_

_Weep you no more, my child_

_For soon, the heavens will open,_

_and you will know _

_that in another time, another place,_

_the sun will shine for you..._

Did she pass out? She didn't know. Only that she sensed it had become quiet in the room; in a daze she felt her mother covering her body, crooning all the time as she bathed the weals with water and a soft cloth. Her mother had given an anguished cry when she saw the blood on her inner thighs.

"Oh, my child!"

"Only his hands, Mama. It was cruel..."

She had started sobbing again, but her mama kept up her humming of their melody, of other forgotten and hazy lullabies. Mama had dressed her in her night-gown and tucked her into her bed.

"Mama...?"

"Yes, Katie?"

"What am I going to do, Mama?"

"What you were always going to do, Kathleen. Follow your heart."

She had fallen into a restless slumber listening to her mama's soft voice and she had wondered absently how she had thought that Mama didn't love her. So she drifted off...dreaming about the New World.

"Wake up, Katie. We're here at the inn," Tommy said as he touched her shoulder gently. Waking up in a daze, she was disoriented for a few seconds until Tommy's face came into focus. She gave him a smile as he jumped off the cart, held his hand to her and helped her down, then looked about her. It was still early, and she hadn't realised that she had fallen asleep against Tommy. The last she remembered was passing the three mile mark into the city.

There were not many people about, but Tommy had assured her that the inn would take them in early. They were only going to stay for a few hours until they were ready for the bank to open and then to get some transport to the port where the cattleships were waiting. They removed their luggage from the cart and carried it to the foyer. The innkeeper scowled, but he wasn't unfriendly. They had separate rooms and at least she could freshen up. Her undergarment was sticking again to the open weals on her back and she grimaced once. Tommy glanced quickly at her.

"Are you okay now, Katie?" he asked, concerned. She nodded and quietly they were led up the stairs to the first floor and shown their rooms. Tommy thanked the old man and stuck two pennies in his hand when the man grumbled. She walked into her room, still in a kind of daze, wondering that they had managed to get away from the farms. She stood by the window overlooking a small backyard. It looked dreary even in the watery sun.

Tommy had thrown down his luggage and quickly came to her room. Katie didn't turn, and only felt his hand lightly on her shoulder in the same gentle manner of earlier. "You are sure?" he asked again. Turning to face him, she smiled that he was still so worried. His ivy cap sat a little skew and it made him look boyish, endearingly mischievous. His blue eyes were piercing in the morning light that streamed through the small window. She had opened the window to let in some air and the lace curtain fluttered in the breeze.

"I'm still a little worried, Tommy Kiernan. I won't be able to rest until I am on the _Britannic_ out on the open ocean..."

"I know. I understand."

She saw how his lips pursed together. He was remembering how she looked when he waited by her bedroom window and helped her climb out. They had run as swiftly and as quietly as they could through the dark to the cart that was waiting at the end of the lane that marked the boundary of The Craggs. She had fallen down once, and when he helped her up, she had cried out in agony. On the cart he had seen in the dim light of the moon - for they daren't light the lantern - how she looked scared and in pain.

She had opened the top buttons of her blouse and showed him the first deep bruise that darkened her skin. He also saw her cracked lips. His hands rested on her arms, a question in his eyes. Then his hands touched her breast, her legs, the question answered in silence as she nodded. He knew. He knew what kind of man his father was, and his father was no different from her father. He knew what men like Justin Riley did, for he too, had heard about Ceara's troubles with him.

Instinct had made him put his hand round her in comfort and she winced, tears filling her eyes at the sudden pain. Tommy had let out a vile curse she had never heard him use. Then he cursed all Ireland. After that he cursed Liam O'Clair to hell before he urged the horses forward again. Now Tommy Kiernan looked at her with great concern.

"My father, do you think he will come after us?" she asked.

"No one knows we're here, Katie."

"Except Mama. She knew - "

"Oh, Katie - "

"No, you don't understand, Tommy. Mama just sensed I was going to do something like this. She's on our side. Only...only..." Katie paused, remembering her how her mama sang to her last night.

"You are worried about her."

"Yes. My Papa... You can see what he is capable of," she said, pointing to her arm, her neck, her back, her legs.

Tommy touched her lips, still raw from Justin's attack. She closed her eyes, remembering the shame of Justin's hands on her.

"I know what men can do, Kathleen Eileen O'Clair," he said in a hoarse voice. "Right now, I'm not very proud of being one myself. But I don't think your father will come after us..."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked as she sat down on the bed. She unlaced her shoes and pulled them off before gingerly lying down on the bed. Tommy sat down next to her.

"Because I disabled your cart." He smiled as her eyes widened at his audacity. "Took a wheel off and guided the horse away from the stables and on to our property. I was just worried that your father might hear the noise. I don't think he did. We got away clear. If he wanted to warn Justin, he'd have to walk the three miles there. We're ahead of them. Don't worry, will you?"

She gave a sigh of relief, then allowed herself the luxury of a smile.

"You've always been such a devil, Thomas Eugene Kiernan. I'm glad we're together. We should never be apart."

"Aye. You promised I would be godfather to your firstborn, whenever that will be..." He became pensive for a few moments. Then, "You will find love, Katie O'Clair. I always thought you had guts to insist the man you marry will be the man you love. That takes some doing in these parts..."

"Or, in these times."

"Or in these times. Look, I'll leave you now. It's getting colder and there's no point waiting with the cattle in the cold to board the ship. Get some rest. I'll take some shut-eye too. I'll come and wake you when it's time to go."

Katie's heart thundered wildly. She sat up and planted a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you, Tommy Kiernan. You are a good man."

"You are entirely welcome, Katie O'Clair. Entirely welcome..."

When he left, she settled in and shifted on her side. She'd seen much of Dublin in her life, even though this inn was not known to her. All she wanted to do now was to wake up, board the cattle ship that would take them across the Irish Sea and walk up the gangway of the _Britannic._

She was already up and dressed again when Tommy knocked on her door. He didn't wait for her to answer and her heart gave a skip when she thought it might be someone else. She wouldn't put it past Justin to come looking for her. Tommy had assured her this was a little known inn and tucked away in Dublin's back streets.

"Ready?" he asked as he took her suitcase and carried it with his own downstairs. The innkeeper, thought they were staying for two days, frowned, then shrugged when he saw them coming down with their luggage. Tommy must have been up all this time and gone out to arrange transport.

A short drive down one street brought her to a small bank tucked away between two bigger buildings.

"No, I'm coming along," he insisted when she told him he could wait.

"That makes me feel so much better, Tommy," she said, sounding relieved.

Tommy watched the street, the carriage, the one or two people who entered the bank. Kathleen felt safe that he was so cautious. The bank teller looked friendly. She must have been his first customer.

"All your funds, Miss?" he asked, then complied when she nodded to him. Minutes later her money was safe in her handbag and they boarded the waiting carriage again, now making its way to the docks, traveling through the back streets. Katie's heart was in her throat as she looked about her. The city was beginning to come alive, with more people milling about. She smiled at the styles of some women wearing wide brimmed hats, gloved hands clutching handbags, their laced up shoes just peeping from their ankle length dresses. Many wore simple shifts, not as ornate as the one she was wearing. She had decided to put on clean underclothes and the bloodied ones would have to wait until they board the Britannic before she could do anything about cleaning them. The men she saw had rough hands and faces; they wore tweed jackets with patches on the elbows and almost all of them wore poorboy caps. She spotted a newsboy standing on a corner shouting for everyone to buy the morning paper. Most men were workers at the breweries, she supposed. Not many gentlemen about with their bowler hats and dark suits and canes. She touched the lacy collar of her dress, fingering the handmade lace with a gloved hand.

It was the brilliance of her mother's craft. She shook her head. In her large bag, she had packed the hand-embroidered table cloth with hand-made lace edging they had used the previous night at dinner. She'd found it when she woke up to prepare for her journey. There was no message but she knew that her mother meant for her to take it with her to the New World.

"How long before we reach the port?" she asked, clutching her handbag tighter to her. The driver turned to look once at them, smiled, then kept his eyes on the road.

"Not long now," Tommy said as they came within sight of the harbour. They passed a few more buildings. Then suddenly the horses neighed and pranced. The carriage rocked.

"Tommy..."

"What the - ?" Tommy shouted as she was thrown against him. "Hey - !"

Two figures lunged for them. The next moment Tommy was pulled from the carriage, landing in the ditch. A flurry of movement so fast she hardly knew what was happening. Then a pair of hands grabbed her and pulled her roughly down. When she saw his enraged face, the freckles, the dark hair, she went ice-cold inside.

"No! Justin, you!"

"Thought you could get away from me, could you?" he leered. "I had Michael come in to Dublin last night already. He knew what you were up to. He just played along, to see how far you could get."

Katie struggled violently, screaming for help as Justin dragged her away from the carriage. Tommy was pulled to his feet by Michael. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see them scuffle, then she heard Tommy screaming at her to try and run. She pulled away from Justin to run to Tommy. Michael took a swing at him.

"No! Tommy! Tommy!"

People were running from all directions. The hands that gripped her dug painfully into her flesh and she was dragged kicking and screaming from the spot to the side of a building down an alley. She didn't know what was happening to Tommy, but Justin pushed her against the wall so hard that her head knocked and she felt momentarily faint. Where did the curious onlookers come from so suddenly? She looked at them with pleading eyes while Justin's hand squeezed her bosom.

"Help me, please... He's hurting me."

"Here," Justin said, as he pinned her to the wall and with the other hand removed a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. "I have her father's permission to marry her. Our wedding is today. This paper says so. She is mine. This wench is my wife. I already tasted her, see?" he barked. "Now be off, I want to kiss my bride - "

"No, I'm not your wife! I'm not - " Her mouth was muffled as Justin's mouth descended on her. The same blinding fear of last night. Justin's leering, his rough hands...all over her...people watching. She pushed him away as hard as she could, but Justin lunged back.

Darkness descending as his mouth closed on hers. Fear so deep...so deep.

"Help, please..."

_This darkness hides not its pain_

_or its torture,_

_When will it end, dear sisters of mine?_

_When will it end, dear friend of mine?_

"Lady, is this man bothering you?" asked a strange voice. It didn't sound like anyone from her part of the world. A strange, clipped voice, disciplined, yet the sound of anger lay just beneath the surface of the discipline. How could she sense that in the face of danger? she wondered. Justin broke the kiss to glower at the stranger. Katie saw the darkest pair of eyes staring at her. A man, surely not of this place, with a woollen cap pulled over his forehead. He looked...kind, and he smiled...

"Please... help me..."

Then the man grabbed Justin and threw him hard against the opposite wall. Justin's head cracked. How strong was this stranger?

"Seems to me you don't understand when the lady says 'no'," he hissed at Justin, pressing him tightly against the wall. The stranger turned to look at her. She was struck again by his dark brooding eyes, his tan, the contained anger.

"You okay, Miss?"

She nodded, too mute to say anything. Something, an indefinable thread that pulled her to the man, kept her standing there. Tommy would find her, she knew. Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen two persons rushing to his aid, and had also seen the driver jump off to help. Here, with the stranger, she sensed that she should throw in her lot with him. She felt an instantaneous assurance; she could trust him with her life. There was venom in his eyes which he seemed to reserve for Justin only.

"Now, how about fighting me?" the stranger invited as he pulled off his jacket and handed it to her. She heard how his knuckles cracked as he flexed his fists. "Think you can handle fighting a man?"

END CHAPTER FOUR


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Grey dawn had broken over the hills in the distance as Chakotay, Magnus Rollins and Marla Gilmore were beamed down in a vacant lot behind a derelict building in the city of Dublin. Chakotay had studied the maps of the period and figured they could make good time if they were transported to the outskirts of town and worked their way from there to the inner city. They were blind from that point on.

"We have a whole city to scour," he told Magnus and Marla. "I think we should split up and whoever finds the first trail, hail the others. Make sure your commbadges remain unseen. They have to be in the city..." He paused. "On second thought, Marla, I think you and Magnus should stick together." They nodded, grasping the wisdom of Marla not walking around a strange city alone.

They parted ways and Chakotay started working systematically, checking the inns first. He couldn't show them any pictures of Kathleen O'Clair and Thomas Kiernan because he had none.

"They would be traveling together. The last names Kiernan and O'Clair," he told the innkeeper at one of the seedier places.

"No, none what have booked in the last few hours, mister." The man wore a dirty, sweaty, faded pink undershirt with broad braces that held up a too wide pair of trousers. He had a stubble and a pipe clenched between his teeth as he spoke. There was dankness in the foyer, of stale wine and stale smoke.

"Thank you," he said and left in haste, mostly to escape the smell.

At the fifth inn his patience was wearing thin.

"Say, mister, you are mighty tanned for an Irishman. Where have you been?"

"Africa."

"Is that a fact?"

"What's it to you?"

"Them Africans look none like you."

"Well then, maybe you haven't seen them all."

"If you say so, mister. What can I do you for?"

"I am looking for two young people - man and woman - who may have signed in here in the last twenty four hours. Do you know of them? The names are Kiernan and O'Clair..."

The innkeeper took his pipe out of his mouth and his eyes narrowed till they almost closed.

"Are they gentlemen and lady folk?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well dressed. They stand out here...high and mighty like they own the place like."

"I...wouldn't know."

"But you be looking for them. How can't you know?"

"I guess then they might be gentleman and lady..."

"Mister, I can't help you. Say, you keen on a job in the breweries? Heard they are looking for able-bodied men. Or the docks. Big men, like you, mister."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

Chakotay walked out the damp smelling foyer, wondering if two well-dressed individuals would actually stay in such a derelict inn. It might be perfect camouflage...or not. If they wanted to hide, they could be anywhere. Behind the inn he found a secluded spot. He looked around furtively to make sure there were no people walking around. Quickly he tapped his commbadge.

"Chakotay to Rollins." He waited a few seconds and realised Rollins and Marla had probably done the same thing, making sure they were out of sight of curious onlookers.

"Rollins here."

"Anything?"

"We're running a blank here, Commander, but we're continuing. We're in the area of the docks - "

"The docks?"

"We figured that they'd have to make their way here if they are still traveling together. We established that the first ship to carry passengers across to Liverpool is still docked and due to leave in an hour."

"Then we have little time. I'll have to use my tricorder for DNA scans. There might be something. It's a long shot."

There was silence at the other end, then the crackling sound of the badge again.

"We haven't thought of that, have we?"

"As I said, it's worth a try. I'll keep on looking. We don't have much time. Chakotay out."

It's funny, Chakotay thought, as he flicked on his tricorder and brought up data on Kathryn's DNA, scanning for a possible match. He had not given himself time to think it through, but all they needed was the data of Kathryn's genetic markers. They didn't need samples, just data of tests done a month ago. The lights flickered hesitantly, then sharpened and once a short beep sounded, he noticed there were three near matches. And the nearest match was not a hundred metres away.

He felt the adrenaline pumping as he hastened in that direction. The sun was already out and people were milling about, many on their way to work, he surmised. Maybe he was in the wrong part of town, but he didn't see anything near resembling 'gentlemen and lady folk-like', and most were dressed like he was. He grinned inwardly. At least he'd gotten the clothing right and blended in, sort of. On Voyager he never had to deal with the kind of questions he was faced with here. His tanned appearance made him a curiosity, but it was too late to do anything about it, except to lie convincingly and without exposing himself. So he settled for Africa if they assumed that he was from there. They also assumed he could be working in the breweries or at the docks. He didn't want to run too fast and attract undue attention.

He entered the foyer and saw the innkeeper at the desk. Another inward smile. All the desk staff were male. This one was grey-haired, had a massive paunch and belched before he saw Chakotay.

"You're new to these parts. What can I do you for, mister?" he asked. By now he was used to their syntax, which sounded odd.

"I need some information. If you can help. I'm looking for two young people - perhaps in their twenties - who may have signed in here."

"And what's it to you?"

"If I tell you I'm the girl's father and I'll wallop her good for running away from home, what's that to you?"

He didn't want to be unkind or irritable as the innkeeper wasn't all that unfriendly. He thought how different real life was to some of their holodeck programs, where he was always so much aware that the characters could be manipulated with their response and dialogue parameters. This innkeeper was different from the others who had been miserable and dour. The old man glanced at the staircase and Chakotay's heart hammered. He was finally on to something. Did his neck hair stand on end? It felt like a whiff of ghost's breath. The innkeeper made a guttural sound.

"Mister, a young man and young lady came in here very early this morning, before light even. They checked into separate rooms..."

Young man and lady...gentleman and lady, like the others told him.

"And?"

"They left again."

"What?"

"Only a few minutes ago. Their cart is still in the stable. They used other transport."

"What were their names?" Chakotay asked.

The man opened the book, licked his finger and paged to the last entry. He pointed with a finger.

"Ah...here... Miss O'Clair and Mister Kiernan."

Chakotay closed his eyes briefly and almost acted on his impulse to pull the old man closer and kiss him.

"Take me to the girl's room," he commanded, as a thought struck him. The old man raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Lifting the flap, he moved from behind the counter and led him up the stairs to the first floor. At the second door down the hall he stopped, took the enormous bunch of keys hanging by his waist and after fumbling to get the right key, eventually managed to open the door. Chakotay looked at him. "That will be all. You can go..."

He waited for the old man to leave and when he heard the footsteps on the stairs, Chakotay quickly looked about the room. Something peeped from under a pillow, something white and frilly. When he pulled it out, he gave a small curse. There were blood smears on the undergarment. He could only assume it was one, judging by the frills and the softness of the fabric. The blood streaks were long and criss-crossed, from the shoulder to the bottom edge.

This girl must have taken some beating, he thought.

Chakotay removed the scanner from the tricorder and initiated a reading of the blood smears. He tried to smile as he read the results. He tapped the small 29th century commbadge pinned to the vest under his shirt.

"Chakotay to Rollins."

"Rollins here, Commander. Found anything?"

"A hundred percent chance that we are on the right trail. Kathleen O'Clair and Thomas Kiernan are making their way to the docks. They're probably in a carriage and driving along a main route. The girl is definitely Kathleen O'Clair and - " Chakotay paused, looked at the soiled garment on the bed.

"And what, Commander?"

"She is injured. Most probably whipped by someone. Chakotay out."

He didn't want to wait for their reaction. He felt his bile rise as he imagined a whip lashing and breaking sensitive skin on the girl's back. He snapped the tricorder shut, left the undergarment on the bed and quickly exited the room. The tricorder was hidden from view when he approached the innkeeper.

"Thank you. I think I have seen enough."

"The girl be your daughter, mister?"

"Yes," he replied as he started to move towards the door.

"You gonna find work at the docks, mister?" the man asked, but Chakotay didn't look back again as he stepped outside. Once outside he had to shield his eyes against the sun. A cart approached. Chakotay waved to the driver who brought the horse to a dead stop.

"Which way you're going, mister?" he asked.

The man pointed with his whip.

"Right down this road, sir. Want to ride along?"

"Thanks!" Chakotay jumped up and the driver shifted to make way for Chakotay.

"You be a visitor to these parts?" the man asked. Chakotay nodded, not in a mood to speak. Despite his clothes he looked clearly out of place; he gathered it was just the way of city dwellers to smell when someone was 'new to these parts'. He soaked in the view of the city, the streets, the tenements and run-down atmosphere of official looking buildings. He had to remind himself that not long ago, the country had experienced a famine. Poverty seemed rife. He passed a church building with stained glass windows and thought how much Kathryn would have enjoyed being inside one of the cathedrals.

But he was too worried about the girl. The blood on the undergarment was hers. The match with Kathryn Janeway was just too close for her not to be the one they were looking for. Besides, the innkeeper did confirm their names. He wished the cart would go faster, but didn't want to hurry the driver who seemed to enjoy taking his time. On an impulse he decided to get off again and started running down the road. He ignored the onlookers who stopped to stare at him. As he rounded a corner, he could see a carriage in the distance and hoped it was the one that carried Kathleen and Thomas Kiernan. It was impossible to take out his tricorder. It was technology completely alien to the people here even as he fumbled with it in his pocket. When he looked up again, the carriage had suddenly come to a stop as two men jumped at it from a side street. The horse reared and whinnied in panic. Then he saw one pulling out a young man, and on the other side, another man pulled the girl out and dragged her away to the side of a building. At the same time he recognised Rollins and Marla running towards them.

Chakotay started sprinting, not caring if he knocked into some pedestrians and sent them sprawling.

"Rollins!"

Rollins must have spotted him already, since he pointed in the direction the abductor had fled with Kathleen. He changed direction, moving swiftly to the building where he had seen Kathleen and the man. They had vanished down what looked like a narrow lane.

"Excuse... I'm sorry..." he muttered as he barged past people. The alley looked dark, but already there were people who had entered from the other end. A man pinned the girl against the wall, and he held a piece of paper for the onlookers to see. The girl looked very scared. She tried to break free, but his arm pressed against her neck.

He approached quietly. The attacker didn't notice him and neither did the girl. She was appealing to the people to help her.

"Lady, is this man bothering you?"

Only then did she look at him. His eyes widened and his heart raced wildly. Her eyes implored him; her lips were parted, and the attacker's arm had released its grip on her neck. Even in the weak light of the alley, he could see the colour of her eyes, blue-grey. He noted the lift of her eyebrows, the way her upper lip closed on the lower lip, the cheekbones, the shape of her eyes, and her hair...golden bronze curls kissing her shoulders lightly.

If he didn't know he was in 1899 Dublin, in an alley surrounded by dank, derelict buildings, if it hadn't been for the costume, he would have thought it was Kathryn Janeway standing there. For a brief, crazy moment he had thought it was Kathryn. Was Kathryn so persistently in his conscious that he saw her in every woman? This girl, this young woman, looked at him with Kathryn's eyes in which the fear gradually abated.

"Please... help me..."

Her attacker turned to him, but he grabbed the man and shoved him so hard against the opposite wall that he could actually hear his skull bounce off it. The man had freckles in his face, with a neat beard. He also looked like an example of the _gentleman _one of the innkeepers had told him about. Chakotay assumed the man to be Riley, the one Kathleen married in the corrupted timeline and left thirteen years later. Only that wasn't going to happen now, he thought, as Riley's stormy eyes met his. He had Riley by the jacket lapels, and pressed his fist into Riley's chest hard enough that he couldn't offer much resistance.

"Seems to me you don't understand it when the lady says 'no'," he hissed at Riley. Keeping Riley pinned to the wall, he turned to the woman, still trying to hide his shock at her likeness to Kathryn Janeway.

"You okay, Miss?" She nodded to him, and he threw the onlookers a furious glance. "What are you looking at? Do you like what you just saw?"

"No," a woman dared to reply. "But I'd like to see you give that creepy crawly thing you have in your hands a bloody good what for."

Riley tried to wrestle free. Chakotay released him.

"That woman must marry me today," Riley barked.

"Seems to me she has other ideas. Now, how about fighting me?" he invited Riley, pulling off his jacket and handing it to the girl.

"Give him a good what for!" someone shouted.

Chakotay flexed his fists.

"Think you can handle fighting a man?" he hissed, fired by his anger at the knowledge that this man had injured Kathleen.

Riley, seeing his intentions, lunged forward, but was stopped by a fierce hook into his mid-section. He bent double with a heaving 'oof' sound. When he straightened up, Chakotay was ready. The next few minutes, with the crowd cheering, he pummelled Riley, going almost blind at the thought of the marks on the woman's neck and the tell-tale signs that Riley had kissed and punished her. Riley threw a few ineffectual punches, clearly unfamiliar with the world of boxing training. Chakotay had an advantage of almost five centuries over the man, with a good deal of fighting experience.

Riley tried to charge Kathleen who was standing almost frozen to the spot.

"Oh no, you don't."

Chakotay threw one last punch, hitting Riley square on the jaw. Riley's head snapped as he went crashing to the opposite wall, where he slid down ignominiously until he was in a sitting position with his head over his knees. Chakotay breathed hard, not hearing the cheers of the people. Riley remained slumped against the wall. Perhaps they had witnessed many similar occurrences.

He turned to the young woman.

"He won't trouble you again," he assured. "You were with a friend?" She nodded, but flinched somewhat when he came nearer. "Please... I won't hurt you, Miss - ?

"O'Clair...Kathleen O'Clair," she confirmed her identity softly, though with firmness in her voice. She had regained some of her composure. "My friend is Thomas Kiernan..."

"Kathleen O'Clair, then. Where are you and your friend heading - ?"

"What - what is your name, sir?" she asked. Chakotay realised he hadn't introduced himself. Quaint, the addressing of 'sir', not quite in the same context as on Voyager where it designated a rank rather than title. He pulled the cap deeper over his forehead, but by the way her eyes had widened, he knew she had seen part of his tattoo.

"My name is...Charles."

"You saved my life, Charles." Hardly aware of his gesture, she hooked her arm through his. The crowd forgotten, he led her to the wide street. She looked around her pensively. "This is the last time I'll see this city..."

"Explain?"

"My friend and I - we are making our way to America...New York."

"You're on your way to the harbour, then."

"Yes. That man...His name is Justin Riley. I was supposed to marry him today."

Chakotay managed not to show his surprise. If only Kathleen knew! They continued walking towards the carriage where Thomas, Magnus and Marla were waiting. Kathleen broke loose from him and started running towards them.

"Thomas! Oh, Tommy! We're safe!"

She hugged Thomas Kiernan fiercely. Magnus and Marla looked at him with wonder in their eyes. He nodded to them not to say anything, but he could see that they too noticed the resemblance. Thomas Kiernan had the same remarkable blue eyes as Tom Paris had.

"Oh, Thomas," cried Kathleen again. "I thought that nasty man had killed you!" After a few moments of hugging and kissing on the cheek, Kathleen broke free and in a breathless voice said, "Thomas, this kind gentleman saved me. He gave Justin Riley a good what for."

"He did?" Thomas reached for his hand and shook it vigorously. "I thought no one could beat Justin Riley at barefist fighting. Except of course, that mean Michael Sullivan. But I bet you would have licked him too."

"His last name is _Sullivan_?" Marla and Magnus Rollins chorused, looking at Chakotay. He winked imperceptibly that they must try and mask their surprise. Michael Sullivan, indeed. How many times did he have to fight Michael Sullivan to get Kathryn's undivided attention? She had been lonely then, during those years. Lonely... And he had suffered in silence, carrying a torch for a long time.

"Yes, that's Justin's new friend he met a week ago. I've never seen him before but I didn't like him."

"I'll say!" Thomas agreed fervently. "One very evil looking man, that. Say, Kathleen, have you met my new friends? They are Magnus Rollins and Marla Gilmore - "

"We were waiting for Charlie when we happened upon your little confrontation with...Michael Sullivan. We left him stewing in an alley," Rollins said conversationally. He looked at the carriage, where the driver was still waiting patiently for them.

"You and Charlie are together? Then I feel doubly protected," Kathleen said with great relief.

"We must get on, Katie O'Clair," Tommy reminded her, looking apologetically at the three of them.

"We could tag along, if that's okay with you. We're on our way to Liverpool - "

"Liverpool! Are you going to New York too?" Kathleen asked.

Chakotay laughed. Funny how normal it felt to have a conversation in a 19th century context, and how being careful not to pollute the timeline or change history became instinctive. He might have killed Justin Riley. But then he would have corrupted the man's own timeline, however repulsive it seemed to him, knowing that the man had no manners, no respect, and would probably have driven a wife to the grave, given his tendency to violence. The girl's bruises that were visible to them had been put there by two men, he believed, not just her father.

"No, but we have to cross the Irish Sea - "

"Oh, we'd be so happy if we all traveled as a party, at least to Liverpool," Kathleen suggested. "Tommy, you don't mind, do you?"

"Uh, no, Katie O'Clair. I know that look in your eyes. It's time for me to do as you command. We have to hurry though, or we won't make the cattle ship."

"And, Tommy?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I'd like Marla to ride with me."

"I second that," said Magnus. Tommy gave them a lop-sided grin as he helped lift Kathleen into the carriage. Marla looked beguilingly at Magnus who complied with a smile as he lifted her next to Kathleen. Her eyes were shining as they waved the men goodbye.

Magnus looked at Chakotay and shook his head. They had most certainly found Kathryn Janeway's founding mother. The men practically ran the rest of the way to the port. A river meandered through the city and the harbour was situated at the mouth of the river. In the distance they could already see the ships. Out of breath but happy that they had at least reached the harbour, they helped the girls alight from the carriage. Tommy put something in the driver's hand, then patted the horse's flank.

"There's our ship, the Virginia. We have a small cabin..." Tommy told them. "The ladies can have the cabin. We'll have to sit around on the deck." Chakotay raised an eyebrow as he saw how they were herding cattle into the hold. "It's killing two birds with one stone. If we want to go the quickest way, this is it," Tommy said by way of explanation.

Kathleen didn't look too unhappy. In fact her face, despite the bruises on her lips and neck, was glowing. He didn't think they'd have a very comfortable journey across, but Kathleen was filled with excitement. Since they had already booked their passage, they wouldn't have much trouble boarding the _Britannic_. Their mission would only be accomplished once they had seen Kathleen on the deck of that ship as it left Liverpool harbour. It was essential for them to keep a close eye on Kathleen and Thomas throughout the journey across. Magnus and Marla had orders not to let them out of their sight. He wondered a little about Michael Sullivan. The man remained a mystery, even with Kathleen's observations; he was an unknown factor. Chakotay would breathe easier once they were on the ship. He hadn't seen the man and wouldn't recognise him, but he kept a watchful eye on the docking berths. Magnus and Marla and their two charges would recognise the felon at least.

He waited until they were all aboard before he too boarded the vessel. Much against his better judgement they had replicated some currency to pay for their passage, buy something to eat, and if necessary and if it had to come to that, purchase the tickets for Kathleen and Thomas. He had no doubt there were vultures waiting in Liverpool, eager to pounce on unsuspecting Irish émigrés, especially girls, and Kathleen had to be protected at all costs. If she could get on the _Britannic,_ everything would be plain sailing.

Chakotay shivered. The eight hour journey across the Irish Sea was harrowing. A wind had sprung up and whipped the waves into a frenzy. The sun that had shone like a balm on tired faces in early morning Dublin had vanished and in its place were dark clouds that billowed, looking like fat squirming worms that seemed to have no end to their bodies. He felt the cold, a pernicious savage eating through the fabric of his clothes. He gave another shudder and wondered how the two girls were coping in their cabin. He was glad that they weren't on deck like some women and children who were huddled together, getting soaked by the spray of the waves that lashed against the boat as well as the rain that had begun to pelt down.

There was nowhere else to go. He had found himself a little nook where he could take a body count using his tricorder. It shocked him. He couldn't decide which were the heads of cattle and which the people. There were five hundred and seventy humans on board and sixty heads of cattle. The men, women and some children looked bedraggled, hungry and tired. They sat on the large suitcases or any other baggage that offered a seat. Mothers were holding young children close to them. He even saw one young mother breastfeeding her baby. When the rain started, he had taken off his jacket and hung it over two small children sitting together. Soon after he had seen Magnus doing the same. They couldn't stop Tommy from taking his jacket off too, even though they had to ensure Tommy remained protected.

He was hungry, but he didn't care much. The people he observed were worse off and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew what the lot of many of the immigrants would be. They couldn't effect a single change, for history would be altered forever. History had already been altered for one family bloodline and they were here to correct that mistake. His heart burned at the knowledge that many of the people he saw on the deck would probably never make it to the New World. They would die in poverty, alone and sick. In a few hours he would be back on Braxton's ship and eating. These poor souls were all making their way out of a miserable life in Ireland, hoping to make a better life when they got to America. The grass was not always greener on the other side for those who did make it to America, he thought with some bitterness. Many of the Irish immigrants found themselves settled in tenement buildings very similar to what he had seen in Dublin. He felt powerless, and it made him angry.

On Voyager they led an ordered life, one determined by a set of rules and within those parameters they conducted their affairs. Even when rations were low, there was always the next planet where they could trade for provisions. It was one thing reading about poverty, even seeing pictures of the devastation of war and drought and famine; they were detached from those social evils. It was another thing living it with their hindsight of four hundred and eighty years. He had been a little appalled at what they saw in Dublin, which was certainly not particular to one city only. But he had smelled poverty, and he had smelled social degradation. For most, the only way out was to leave forever. Kathleen and Thomas were better off than most. They had the appearance of the 'gentlemen and lady' types the innkeeper had told him about. They had the vision, and they had prepared, probably for a long time, to take the step. He was certain that they had savings, because despite their experiences, they were confident about where they were heading.

The boat lurched. Again he bent over the rail and retched. The nausea was slowly clearing as he became used to the rolling sensation. Magnus had also spent some time leaning over the boatrail retching and so had Thomas Kiernan.

Tommy left Magnus's side and stumbled towards him.

"Are you okay, Charlie?"

"I will be as soon as we dock," he said, still queasy after the last bout.

Thomas looked at him speculatively. "You're not Irish."

"No."

"Neither are you English." Chakotay, leaning with his elbows on the rail, looked at the eager young face.

"No. I'm Indian."

"As in American Indian?"

"As in American Indian, yes."

"That's why you have that tattoo." There was no point in denying it although he had done his best to hide it.

"Yes. So tell me, what are you going to do in America?"

"Join the military. I want to fly an aeroplane one day."

"And you couldn't do that here?"

"Why would I stay in one place when I can cross the Atlantic and see many more places? Seriously, Charlie, all the opportunities are there. It's the land of hopes and dreams! I am going to apply to enter one of the colleges in New York and study the stars."

"The stars, huh?"

"Yes. Do you think that there is life out there?" Thomas asked, looking up at the sky.

"I don't know..."

"You sound sceptical, Charlie. Know what I think?"

"What?"

Thomas leaned closer to him, in a conspiratorial gesture. "I think that one day, man will walk on the moon."

"How do you suppose they'll get there?"

"In ships designed to travel outside earth's atmosphere. I know my geography. I'm going to study astronomy as well."

"Ships that will fly... Now there's a thought."

"I'm not crazy, am I?"

"Thomas, a couple of hundred years ago, you would have been burned at the stake for making such outrageous claims. I don't think you're crazy. I may be sceptical, and you may be over enthusiastic, but I don't think you're crazy. You sound really convinced. Remember, not everyone will share your dreams, okay?"

"I know. But Katie does."

"That's because she believes in you."

"I like that. We've been friends since birth."

Another pelting of rain, with the ship lurching wildly from portside to starboard side. They were quiet, wrapped in their own thoughts. Rollins had kept Thomas company, but it seemed he was content just to listen to the young man. He'd remember to get a report from Rollins later. Their mission was almost complete as the city of Liverpool came closer and closer.

Marla Gilmore, very proud of having been chosen for this mission, looked at the sleeping Kathleen O'Clair. The bunk was narrow, and she was sitting at the edge, by Kathleen's feet. From time to time she gently massaged Kathleen's ankles, or touched the hand at her side. She had helped Kathleen remove her dress to dab the raw wounds on her back with some liniment. She was appalled, but her long years in Starfleet, her repulsion at what they had done under Ransom's command helped her not to cry out in dismay at the angry weals on Kathleen's back. The wounds were put there by two men, she realised as she saw the bruises around he young woman's breasts, on her neck and lips.

Kathleen had bravely gritted her teeth and refused to make a sound. Her heart cried out for the young woman. Kathleen had been hesitant at first to talk with her about the marks on her neck and her bruised lips.

Marla had prodded gently, not wanting to seem overly inquisitive and not wanting to scare Kathleen off. When they had entered the cabin, they had both sat down on the bed. Kathleen had been fascinated by Marla.

"Your hair is very blonde. I haven't seen many women with hair like spun gold..."

"Thank you..."

"And your dress... I haven't seen this style before..."

"It's from London - "

"I've never been to London..."

"I've never been to New York," Marla replied. _At least not in 1899..._

There was a look - veiled envy perhaps - in Kathleen's eyes but it was gone quickly. Kathleen took her left hand, and touched the finger where there would either be an engagement ring or a wedding band.

"I think you are waiting for the right man..."

Marla smiled. "The right man is there, all right. He just doesn't think I exist."

Kathleen sighed. "I will only marry for love. It's why I - "

"Ran away?"

"Well, it's more than that, really. I was sort of an unconventional person in our house, growing up. Can you believe it? If a woman reads, writes, has opinions and voices them and wants to stand equal to any man - that makes her a curiosity, abnormal. It's education that should be available for every human on Earth, isn't it? What is my right and that of every woman. It was never easy, you know..."

Marla found touching Kathleen's bruised skin irresistible. A gentle, soothing touch. Kathleen's eyes closed briefly; a tear rolled down her cheek.

"You were hurt because you claimed your right as an independent..."

"Last night...Justin...I was supposed to marry him today. I didn't take the news very well. He's...very rough...as you can see."

"I'm sorry..." said Marla.

"And my father... I shamed him, he said." Kathleen gave a sob and threw herself against Marla, who could only hold her while she cried, making soothing sounds to comfort the distraught girl. When Kathleen had calmed, Marla wondered how she could look so beautiful despite the ravages of tears. "I knew then that I had to get away... Away from my father, my family, away from Ireland."

"Your mother?"

"I am going to miss her, so much. She - " Kathleen paused, then continued, looking out the porthole. "She knew what I was going to do. I didn't tell her anything. Yesterday afternoon we - we made peace at last. We said our goodbyes." Kathleen looked sad. Marla wondered if Kathleen O'Clair ever made it back to Ireland again.

"But you are worried about her too..."

"You've seen the marks on my back!" Kathleen said heatedly, although her voice remained low. "My father... There's no knowing what he'd do...with her... She stood by me..." Kathleen cried again softly. When it stopped, she sniffed and smiled through her tears. "She told me I will be surprised by love..."

"Well, Kathleen, I'm pretty certain you will marry the man of your dreams one day."

"I hope so!" They were silent for a while. Then Katie asked, "Tell me about your friend Charlie, please? He looks different, not from this part of the world."

"Katie," Marla said kindly, "some of these things you'll have to ask yourself.

"Is he married?"

"Not yet, but he is betrothed."

"Oh? Is she beautiful?"

"The most beautiful. Come to think of it, you remind me a little of her...the colour of your hair and eyes..."

"He did look at me strangely, as if he had seen a ghost."

"He misses her, that's probably why. Now, I think you need to rest a while, or sleep until we get to Liverpool. You don't seem to have had much sleep..."

"I must admit I am tired."

That had been hours ago. Because of the rain she didn't want to venture on deck, but she would have liked Commander Chakotay to talk to Kathleen. Despite what happened to her, the young woman was very sure of what she wanted, and extremely focused. She was going to make a success of whatever it was that she put her mind to. There was no doubt in their minds that her marriage to Justin, if it happened, would have been an unhappy one. Merely judging by the marks on Kathleen's breasts, her neck and mouth, the man was violent, a vindictive abuser. In the corrupted timeline, Kathleen would have been married thirteen years to the unfeeling jerk. If that manner of physical abuse was already evident before the marriage, how in the name of heaven could she have endured it for thirteen years? Running away then would have been an act of desperation. The angry bruises on Kathleen's neck and on her breasts - Justin's legacy - and those angry weals on Kathleen's back, arms, buttocks and legs put there by her father... Marla shook her head. What was it she was always told by her grandmother?

In any time, in any age, in any place, in any social structure no matter how advanced the society, there will be men who will abuse their partners.

She sighed and leaned against the bulkhead. Down in the hold she could hear the cattle. They were as agitated as the humans. Marla pulled her shawl tighter around her. It was cold and she hoped they'd be in Liverpool soon so that they could complete their mission.

It had stopped raining, and the breeze had dried out Chakotay's shirt and undershirt. He made his way through the throng of people and mounds of luggage to the girls' cabin. He knocked his head against the doorframe as he entered. They hadn't answered his soft knock and now he smiled as he saw both women sound asleep. He shook them gently in turn. Marla woke first. She sat suddenly bolt upright.

"Oh, Com - Charles!" she gasped, looking guilty that she had fallen asleep. When he placed his hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture, her consternation subsided. Kathleen had groaned awake and he guessed that she was experiencing some pain and stiffness again, as she looked at him with sleep-heavy eyes. A smile grew on her, a shy smile that lit up her face. They had made the crossing in a quicker time than he had anticipated, and it was now 1600.

"We're here, ladies. The _Britannic_ sails in two hours."

He left them to freshen up quickly, and ten minutes later they were ready. Kathleen looked rested and much more at ease. Marla must have worked her magic, he realised. It was still light. After the stormy crossing, the skies had opened up again, although there was still a sniping wind. They waited impatiently as the cattle were off-loaded first and he observed Kathleen and Thomas keenly, noting their flushed cheeks. He smiled. The anticipation of crossing the Atlantic, the thrill of leaving their country and making a life elsewhere filled their beings. An expression of sadness flitted across Kathleen's features as she gazed into the distance, for the last time, catching a glimpse of the shores of Ireland.

"I wish...that Mama had been with me," he heard her say wistfully to Marla. Kathleen was worried about her mother, and not without reason. The way Kathleen had been whipped... The same could happen to her mother.

"Do you remember anything that your mother said to you that might make you less worried?" he asked, for he was standing just behind her. She turned quickly to look up at him. He experienced another jolt at the directness of her gaze. Her cheeks were flushed, the cut to her lips less angry.

"She said she had lived long enough to know how to handle Papa..."

"She sounds like you."

Kathleen smiled.

"I wanted to stay, you know, after...after..." A dark cloud came to her eyes again and he felt his own anger flaring. He curbed the overflow of it as quickly as he could, and touched her cheek gently.

"I think I know what she told you."

"What do you think she said, Charles?" Kathleen asked, the light playing in her eyes now.

"Follow your heart."

"Aye," she said and became quiet again, looking over the sea in the direction of Ireland.

Finally the passengers could disembark. The men carried the luggage while Marla had her arm hooked through Kathleen's as they walked down the gangway. Chakotay couldn't suppress a smile. Marla and Kathleen seemed to have bonded. They walked along the pier with the cold breeze whipping colour into their cheeks. It was easy to recognise the _Britannic_. It was the largest vessel that lay berthed at the furthest end and a crowd was milling about.

An oily looking man and a woman, whose appearance was as slovenly as her partner, accosted them.

"Say, mister, I could help carry your luggage. My friend here, she's got tickets to sell. Real cheap, too."

"Hell, no!" Magnus barked at them.

Another stranger sauntered up to them. He looked less oily than the first couple, but persuasive. If they didn't know better, they'd have fallen for the con men dotted all over the quay. The man's eyes, steel grey, looked earnest.

"There's a fine inn selling excellent lunches, pretty ladies. The ship only leaves in five hours. I can see you're hungry for a hot meal. You can come with me..."

"We'll take our chances," Rollins replied, scowling. "Back off!" The man disappeared quickly. Kathleen looked a little startled at Magnus's behaviour. Chakotay could understand it. They had only one mission, and their recent run-in with two equally determined individuals in Dublin kept them on high alert. The slovenly couple followed them, the woman touching Kathleen's and Marla's dresses and handbags.

"Come on, be off!" Chakotay growled, irritated by their persistence. When he snarled and moved as if to punch the man, they scooted away hastily. Marla turned to Chakotay.

"Charles, I think I can carry one of the bags," she offered. He smiled, knowing how they had to check themselves not to address him by his rank, even though he'd said they could call him Chakotay when out of earshot. He nodded to Marla and soon he found himself walking next to Kathleen, her arm hooked through his.

She smiled as she looked up at him.

"Tommy told me you are an American Indian. I noticed you have a strange tattoo... Is that part of your culture?" she asked.

He couldn't deny it. Sometime during his fight with Justin Riley, the cap had slipped off although he had pulled it back quickly before anyone noticed.

"I guess you could say it is, Kathleen."

"And it means much to you."

An image of his father, dragging a reluctant fifteen year old boy through the jungle to find the Rubber Tree People, his own impatience and dislike of their ways, came to him. He remembered his father's words, that one day he would embrace his culture. Kathleen had an instinctive understanding, seeing deep into his heart. She was a stranger to him and yet not a stranger. He remembered the day he'd stood in the clearing as the leader of the tribe burned the tattoo into his skin, and the tears he couldn't stop.

"Yes...yes, it means the world to me."

"But, you were once angry, like the warrior who fought to save me..."

"Aye, Kathleen. Much of the anger is gone now."

"Marla tells me you have a lady waiting at home."

"Marla talked, did she?"

"No more than she had to. She said I should ask you myself."

He gave a sigh. Kathryn was lost, and would only be returned to them if this sweet young woman stood on the deck of the Britannic. They were almost there, with half an hour to spare. He picked up the pace and Kathleen matched his long stride with faster, shorter ones.

"I have someone whom I love. She's not well at the moment, but she is being treated. We are hoping that our search for a cure will be successful.

"Is she dying?"

"No. But you have given me much hope, Kathleen O'Clair. Much hope."

"I do not know how I could be of help, but if you say that it is so, then I believe you. I do hope she gets better. She must, if only to see your dimples when you smile, Charles. Tell me, what is her name?"

Could he tell her? Could he say that Kathleen O'Clair would become the forbear of Kathryn Janeway? He sighed deeply. A name wouldn't hurt...

"Her name is Kathryn..."

"It is a good name, Charles. A good name. One to be kept for posterity, I should think."

"We're here," Magnus said as they all stopped. Tommy turned to him and held out his hand. Again Chakotay was struck by Tommy's wide grin, his bright blue eyes, the future that beckoned so brightly for the young man.

"Charlie, Kathleen and I...we must thank you for accompanying us all the way here and ensuring our safe passage and safe arrival."

"It was our pleasure, indeed, Thomas. I hope you will realise all your dreams. Remember what I said - "

"Yes, not every man will share my vision."

"You got that."

Tommy, Magnus and Marla walked up the gangway with the luggage to store, while Chakotay remained standing on the quay next to Kathleen. Several minutes later, Marla and Magnus came down again.

"Everything is set, Charlie. Marla, Tommy and one of the crew saw to Kathleen's luggage."

First Marla hugged Kathleen, careful that she didn't press the younger woman's back too hard. They stood like that for a few seconds until Marla released her. There were tears in her eyes as she stood back a little.

"May you meet the man of your dreams. May you find joy in your new country," Marla said.

Magnus took Kathleen's hand and kissed the back of it in a very gentleman-like manner.

"Go well, Kathleen O'Clair. Our best wishes for a safe journey."

"Thank you. Thank you so much for saving our lives, for accompanying us here."

"My turn," said Chakotay softly, and his eyes rested on Kathleen almost reverently. A lump grew in his throat.

"I am going away from this, my land, Charles," she said, her face so indescribably sad that he drew her very tenderly into his arms. She was so small, just like Kathryn, so feisty, just like Kathryn, and so unbelievably courageous that he wanted to cry. He wanted to offer solace, to tell her that she need never fear, that one day, she might come back to Ireland, that even though their meeting was so brief, she would remember him with affection.

He held her away, and dug into his pants pocket, one of the hidden pockets Braxton had recommended. He drew out an oval shaped black stone, a pattern of lines in a spiral, moving from the edge of the stone to the centre. The stone was old, one given him by his grandfather, and shiny from years of handling.

"Here, Kathleen O'Clair, take this. It is called a riverstone. It is my pledge to you, and to remember a friend who couldn't help but like you very much. You will find the man who will be your true love. He will love you forever, with care and compassion and most of all, with respect and faith and trust, in the way that you deserve."

Kathleen held the riverstone on her open palm. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Charles? How can I take something so precious from you?"

"Because, sweet Kathleen, just as my beloved is waiting for me, your beloved is waiting for you; this is my gift to you. You have helped me, you don't know how much."

Kathleen threw herself against him again and wept.

"We have a few minutes, Charlie," he heard Magnus say.

He released Kathleen, then pressed his lips against her forehead. She stared at his face, her eyes searching, searching... Chakotay took off his cap; Kathleen gasped softly. Fingers that trembled rested like a butterfly against his tattoo.

"Thank you, Charles..."

She turned slowly, walking up the gangway like someone who was loath to part from her people, the country of her birth, her culture. Finally, she moved through the bulwark and stepped on the deck. Chakotay smiled as she took one last look at them and waved. An officer dressed in a white uniform approached Kathleen. He looked resplendent, the triple gold bars on his sleeves and epaulettes glinting.

"Commander, look!"

"I see it. The Captain has come to welcome the last passenger on board."

His heart was beating in his throat, just as he was absolutely certain did the hearts of Magnus Rollins and Marla Gilmore, as Captain Edward Adam Janeway stopped in front of Kathleen O'Clair. They watched a tableau of slow movement in which they could record every nuance, every look, find detail in the gold stripes on the Captain's sleeves, the ribbons in Kathleen's pretty hat, her mouth that curved into a smile, the almost imperceptible curtsy as she raised a white gloved hand to meet the hand of Captain Janeway. Their hands touched, hers lying like a snow white dove on his open palm. Chakotay even imagined he saw the dove opening her wings and flapping gently in harmony with a new freedom.

Did the universe suddenly bow in reverence? Chakotay's eyes burned with tears.

"Mission complete," he said with lips that trembled.

It happened in those very same slow movements that Marla turned to look behind her. He only heard her soft cry, then Magnus's warning shout.

"Commander, watch out!"

Chakotay felt two hard, swift knocks against his back. Pain black as night and sharp as ten lightning bolts shot through him as he turned. Through a haze he saw the bloody rage on the attacker's face. As if from a distance he heard Marla's voice, her cry of recognition, just as he slowly slumped to the ground, ready to be swallowed by the abyss that opened beneath him.

"Michael Sullivan...you!"


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

There was an uncommon quiet on the bridge that had not been there at least eighteen hours ago. Tuvok had ordered Ayala and Harry to maintain continuous scans of the region and to be on high alert for a temporal shift which, by his calculation, should happen in the next ten minutes. His data projected that the eighteen hour window given the away team to complete their mission was about to close.

A shroud of silence and introspection had fallen over the ship since the away team had left. Tuvok attributed the nervous fluttering the others experienced to their fear that they would not be in time to save the captain. Very few slept; like him, when he had gone off duty for a few hours of respite and spent it in deep meditation, they had found expression in their own ways of intercession and reflection. Since the time Voyager had to leave the command team behind on New Earth, he had not experienced such a collective sadness among the crew as was evident now.

Tom Paris made no attempt to annoy him. Not that he was bothered by the helmsman's occasional taunts, but they were missed. Through generations of extreme discipline and purging, he was immured against feeling the deep emotions that the others felt. It didn't mean that he didn't have them, as he had himself declared to the captain long ago. Yet he had to admit that Paris's taunts and wise-cracks were missed, more because it manifested a particular joylessness within Mr Paris. And that, Tuvok decided, was abnormal.

Harry Kim, thrown into his own state of melancholy, could reflect without being disturbed by Tom. The ensign appeared to him as he had years ago when the captain and first officer were stranded on New Earth. Kim had openly challenged his authority then because he was emotionally overwrought that the new command did not act or do enough to rescue the captain and Commander Chakotay. Harry Kim had looked close to tears that day. He supposed that the human predilection for tears, especially among the young and outraged, was normal. At this moment Harry Kim looked like he could weep. Out of the corner of his eye he could see him frown, in a desperate attempt not to break down. They had only minutes before the time was up, and the away team would return only an hour later. Time, as the doctor said, was of the essence.

If they did not feel the temporal shift, then they would not have succeeded in their mission. He was certain that a shift would redress the imbalance that existed. The captain would then be restored to her correct timeline. That was the fact. No crewmember, not even the senior officers, except Tom Paris, were allowed in the holodeck where the hologram of the captain lay. He concurred with the doctor that such a measure was justified, in deference to the dignity of their captain. No one should see her in that state.

Yes, since the previous day the ship had been quiet. Seven of Nine and Icheb had been forced by the doctor to regenerate, even if it were only for a minimum length of time. They were as compelled as everyone else by the need to remain awake until the captain came back to life. They loved the captain so much that her health and well-being were of the utmost importance to them too.

"Four minutes to go, Commander Tuvok," said Ayala, who was at Tactical. "I detect no abnormality in a radius of one light-year."

"The shift will happen."

"How can you be so sure?" Ayala sounded worried.

"I know that Commander Chakotay will leave no stone unturned to rescue Captain Janeway."

No one challenged him on that.

Tuvok rose from the command chair and stood behind James Hamilton who was piloting. The darkness offered nothing except to enshroud them in its gloom. He did not want to entertain any idea of failure, although that might be a possibility. He had faith in the away team, that they would return to Voyager and that by by then Captain Janeway herself would be waiting for them.

During his meditation, some intrusive thoughts had twice broken his concentration. No one had as yet mentioned or asked why the captain's life had been threatened in the way that it was. They'd discovered "that" the timeline had been polluted, they'd discovered "how" the timeline had been polluted, and what measures had to be taken to restore it. However, there was no reason "why" it had been corrupted. Even if the "why" was rooted in accident, that would be a reason. He believed that the events had been no accident, and that Braxton knew something the crew of Voyager didn't. Then too, if he had any information, he would be bound by the Temporal Prime Directive not to divulge any of it.

Captain Janeway deserved to know why it had happened.

The turbolift doors opened and he turned to see Neelix stomping down the ramp to stand before him.

"Commander, it's almost time. What if the shift doesn't happen? What if we cannot get our captain back? What if the away team can't get back to us? We have only a few seconds, at the most, Commander."

Neelix was practically hopping from one foot to the other, wringing his hands in panic and flaring his nostrils, almost hyperventilating. Neelix had a tendency to hyperventilate under extreme anxiety, but the way he pranced about made Tuvok think Tom Paris was probably right in calling Neelix "Rumpelstiltskin", whoever that was.

"Mr Neelix, the captain would be the first person to tell you to have faith."

"But - but, Commander! She cannot stay a hologram forever! We need her to fulfil our lives, for that is what she has done for us. I feel empty...right here," Neelix palpitated, banging his fist against his chest.

"Mr Neelix - "

"Commander." It was Ayala and Harry who called simultaneously. He swung round to face Ayala, who nodded to him. Tuvok turned to face the black expanse and closed his eyes.

Soft, and swift, so quick that it could hardly have been a whisper, he felt something move through him. The ship jolted slightly, then settled into her even rhythm again.

The way his body changed, he concurred that Neelix was right. They had been empty, and were filling up again with the captain's goodness. He opened his eyes. Neelix stood with an open mouth, as if a deity had given him the light of everlasting life.

The Talaxian gave a cry, his eyes wide as saucers. "Commander!" he cried as he threw his arms round Tuvok. Tuvok, thrown off balance by Neelix's hug, pressed him back,

"Control yourself, Rumpelstiltskin."

"I am alive!"

The next moment, Neelix promptly fainted.

The darkness, the heavy black swathe of cloud billows which had imprisoned her for so long, began to dissipate. At first, it might have been her imagination; the light she saw through closed eyes, a mere flicker, a trick of the shadows to guard her jealously and keep her entrapped.

The infinitesimal message that her eyes remained true to what she sensed, slowly, gradually filled her body. She felt indescribably tired, as if she had been on a very long and arduous journey which must have lasted hundreds of years, that's how it felt. Is that why the darkness had kept her within its confines so long? She had no idea of where she was, or where she had been or even when she had been. She had no idea that she had been anywhere; awareness of space and time remained muted. A sense of placement and displacement alternated hazily as reality and illusion, as if she had gone from herself only to find herself.

It pressed on her eyelids, great boulders that forced her to keep them closed, yet she knew she was aware that mind, body and soul had somehow aligned and balanced. On that sliver of awareness came the second - if she felt balanced and aligned, what reality was that, and what was she before that? Memory remained, inasmuch as she was only aware of senses that existed. Sight, yet unable to open her eyes. Touch, two fingers pressing together, annotating a familiarity. Taste, a dryness in her mouth, her tongue lazy to move and then the sound. Sound? Her aural senses picked up the thin thrilling pricks of sound, yet there was no sound. Where was yesterday and when was yesterday?

Painfully slowly, the vessel which was her body filled with its sights and sounds and tastes, her lifeblood coursing through her veins and arteries, lighting up every nerve and every cell and activating every vital organ so that she could experience the beating of her heart, the quickening of her pulses as realisation dawned that she was alive. The boulder that pressed down on her became lighter, dissolving as it broke up into smaller particles and those particles drifted away until they finally faded out of existence.

There was no pain, of that she was sure. But there had been pain before she left on her journey, wherever that was. That unknown realm remained fuzzy, but people started to fill it. Faces that were at first just blurs with only outlines that suggested a vague resemblance, but teasingly kept just outside her grasp.

Her heart was beating; she was breathing.

She opened her eyes. Impersonal walls of grey and yellow lines, monitors that flashed; those registered in her peripheral sight. She turned her head. A balding man dressed in a blue uniform, a wide smile and eyes in which there was relief. Her hand reached for him instinctively.

"Welcome home, Captain."

"Doctor?"

"Captain Janeway, it's good to have you restored," he said as he lifted her to a sitting position.

"What happened, Doctor? I vaguely remember feeling displaced and in great pain. It was after..." She frowned, tried to think. "The two second temporal shift. I began to feel off balance, a little sick, dizzy. Then everything went black. That was on the bridge..."

"Yes, Captain. You collapsed on the bridge - "

"Why am I in the holodeck?"

"It's a long story. Keep still," the doctor ordered as she moved her head to look about her. The hypospray against her neck was cold. A short, instantaneous burst and she felt much better.

"Captain!" Tom Paris crowed as he entered the holodeck and strode to her side. "How are you feeling?"

"She's feeling better, Mr Paris. Now I need to run a few more tests - "

"Do you still feel displaced, Captain? What do you remember?"

"If you two can allow me to think, I might be able to tell you. Now, Doctor, from the top. I want to know everything."

She looked at each one in turn. Their eyes were bright and their smiles expansive.

"Captain, that you are here with us, and I can finally read on the monitor that you are real, is a miracle."

"When was I not real?" she asked, confused. She remembered that she had been confused most of the time on the bridge after the temporal surge.

Tom Paris gave a cough. "Well, we created a hologram of you, because your body had dissipated completely."

"And only your last remaining synapses were rescued and masked so that we didn't lose Voyager - "

"After which we brought you here, to the holodeck."

"Gentlemen!"

Both men stopped dead in the onslaught of information that tumbled from them. She felt close to tears and very close to a headache, although her tiredness had receded. She slid off the bed.

The doctor turned to Tom.

"Mr Paris, perhaps you should leave me with the Captain. She is right. We are distressing her more than we're helping."

Paris looked so doleful that she was tempted to let him stay, but she knew that the Doctor would be the best person in the circumstances to apprise her of the events that had caused her collapse.

"Tom..."

"Understood." Tom walked to the holodeck door, and the last they heard was, "Paris to the bridge..."

She rubbed her forehead, then decided to lie back on the biobed. It would be a good idea to close her eyes and drift off somewhere. She opened them again when the doctor tapped her gently. He was smiling. Sitting up, she was surprised to see that the holodeck grid had made way for a lounge with wide windows, a large comfy couch on which she lay snug, an easy chair and other soft furnishings. There was a huge hearth, with photos on the mantelpiece. In the corner stood a piano, a baby grand. Phoebe was the one who played. Phoebe...?

"Our lounge on the farm in Indiana," she whispered as the doctor sat down in the easy chair.

"Courtesy of Mr Paris. He said he visited there once or twice."

"Our parents are friends..."

"That's what he said."

A short pause. Then,

"Doctor..."

"Captain, Commander Chakotay, Magnus Rollins and Marla Gilmore went on an away mission to rescue you."

"That sounds like a paradox."

"Indeed, it is."

"Chakotay...where is he now?"

"We're still waiting for their return, Captain. May I ask what you can remember before everything went dark?"

What more was there to say than she had said already? The doctor sounded too cryptic. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. His eyes were filled with compassion, sadness...? A sudden vision of a white dove hovering in the air. An eagle...yet the dove did not fly away in fear. She shook her head. Tried to think. What could she remember? Lying on a biobed. Voices. Chakotay's voice. Chakotay had been with her -

"Commander Chakotay was with me. I couldn't remember important dates, like we were supposed to be married..." she frowned as she raised herself to a sitting position and drew her feet under her, "yesterday."

"That is correct, Captain. What else?"

She tried to picture Chakotay's face. His distress showed in the way he clutched her hand, his eyes tried to comfort. Greater dread as he started drifting like a bubble away from her. She didn't want him to leave. He moved further and further from her. Or did she move away? She couldn't think why it happened, only that she felt...

"I was afraid, Doctor. I have never in my life been so afraid, and I couldn't understand why...I was afraid..."

"Yes, that is it. Moments after that, you were gone completely. Now, Captain, I'm going to tell you something of what transpired in the first hours after your collapse. Feel free to interrupt, anything."

"You sound very serious, Doctor."

"Trust me. It was extraordinarily severe. Had you just died on the table, I could have revived you, done anything, searched through all the medical procedures of every quadrant to revive you. I've done it before on this ship, with many crewmen. Granted, I couldn't save a certain crewman's life, and I've made my peace with that. But what happened to you, Captain, I was powerless to prevent."

"You couldn't prevent my dying?" A sharp stab in her bosom. She stifled a cry. "I...died?"

"In a manner of speaking. After the temporal shift, you were brought to sickbay. Your vital organs didn't just collapse, they disintegrated. The lungs first, and as fast I replicated a new pair of lungs, they too started disappearing. Before our eyes your whole body began to disappear. I had already salvaged your remaining synapses." She knew that the doctor would soon help her out of her confusion, so she just nodded that he should continue. "And because of that, we could create a hologram of you here in the holodeck."

"A - A hologram?" she stammered, genuinely surprised. She remembered Danara Pel.

"Which we kept in a kind of stasis. You spent almost twenty hours on the biobed as a hologram, Captain. It was the only way we could keep you." The doctor bit his lip, looked distractedly away, then faced her again. "The rate of degradation of your remaining synapses gave us eighteen hours from the commencement of the holographic activation. You woke up with a few seconds to spare. We..."

"I would have been lost forever..."

"Yes..."

"I can think of only one reason why my body would dissolve in increments," she said reflectively. "Somewhere in my timeline there was a disturbance."

This time he looked surprised, though there was no smile. His mouth was drawn, like someone tired of life with no prospects of ever finding light.

"You know?"

"It's the only possible explanation. But why are we still on Voyager?"

"Because I could mask your remaining synapses and keep Voyager within your own timeline."

"Time paradoxes - "

"I know. It gives you a headache."

"How did you find out where to start?"

"Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Paris researched your family history and genealogy. Commander Chakotay had data that you had apparently asked him to copy to his private computer in his office." She nodded, but frowned, wondering how a divergence could occur. "He believed that it remained pure because he had done the downloads himself..." The doctor answered her unspoken thought. "Lieutenant Paris searched through Voyager's database and that is where he found the discrepancies."

"So where was the point of origin?"

"Who is Kathleen O'Clair?" he countered. That made her jerk up straight. She groaned as her head protested from the quick movement.

"A forebear of mine, born in Ireland."

"Captain, then you will know that Kathleen O'Clair left Ireland on the 10th May 1899, boarded the _Britannic_ in Liverpool and sailed for the New World."

"America..." she whispered as a strange feeling overwhelmed her. Had she had dreams in her holographic state? She shook her head, feeling the onset of breathlessness. Taking deep breaths, she steadied herself. The doctor watched her closely, then sagged with relief when she felt better again. "She married Edward Adam Janeway... The Janeways go further back, to Edward's great-great grandfather who gave him a microscope that is still in our possession. In fact it's in my ready room. That's where our present line started. Is that where the link was broken?" she asked, feeling inexplicably sad.

"Aye, Captain, according to the records on Mr Chakotay's computer. Somehow, that information remained untainted. According to Mr Paris, Kathleen O'Clair didn't even make it to Liverpool on that day. She married a widower, but thirteen years later in 1912, she left him and ran off to seek a new life. She was on the Titanic..."

"The Titanic... Her timeline either ended or veered in a different direction, as well as that of Edward Janeway..."

"Her name was on the list of those who died. Also, in your own distorted line, Edward Janeway fathered boys. You and Phoebe were the daughters of his brother Matthew Janeway - "

"Phoebe!"

"Aye. We made contact with Starfleet who confirmed Phoebe's death, as well as that of her three month old baby..."

"Oh, my God..."

"We knew we had to act, and quickly, before we lost you forever..."

"The away team?"

"Went to make sure Kathleen O'Clair made it to Dublin like she was supposed to and from there to Liverpool. They ensured that she boarded the _Britannic_ where she would meet and fall in love with Captain Edward Janeway."

Kathryn closed her eyes. Her whole body shivered. She must still be tired, else how could she feel so listless, so in need of sleep? The information was too much, perhaps too soon. She should have waited. The white dove slowly descended, tired wings flapped listlessly as she tried to remain airborne. Kathryn saw the doctor through a blur. Was she in tears? Did her headache increase? There was a soft hiss against her neck; her body sagged against the doctor before he pressed her gently to lie down on the couch.

"You are exhausted, Captain. Sleep for a while. The away team should report in about 30 minutes."

"Tell me...how did they get to the past...?"

"Sleep, Captain. It will all be explained once you are rested."

"Thank you, Doctor," she slurred. "Kathleen O'Clair...was a remarkable woman..."

Braxton's ship dropped out of warp so suddenly that he caught the bridge officers unawares. Tuvok was instantly on his feet, waving a hand in Harry's direction without looking behind him. Braxton's face appeared on the screen and he looked worried.

"Commander Chakotay needs urgent medical attention. I've kept his body in stasis for two hours since I don't have a medical bay on my ship. It's not designed for extensive medical procedures."

"Bridge to Sickbay."

"What can I do for you, Commander?" the doctor asked.

"Beam Commander Chakotay to sickbay."

Tuvok closed communication and waited for Braxton to speak again.

"Thank you. Lieutenant Rollins and Crewman Gilmore have also beamed over to your sickbay. I will remain with you as I wish to speak with the doctor."

"I trust the mission was successful, Captain Braxton."

"Oh yes. Didn't you feel the shift? Ah, you wish for detail. Yes, they accompanied Kathleen O'Clair and Thomas Kiernan all the way from Dublin to Liverpool and waited until contact was made."

"Thank you, Captain. The crew will be happy to hear this. We can tell you that the Captain has been restored, and that she is resting."

Braxton smiled, then suddenly the screen went blank again.

"He never said how Commander Chakotay had been injured. Now we have to wait..." Ayala murmured.

"He could have told us. We deserve to know, don't we?" said Harry.

"Maybe he was attacked - "

"Of course he must have been attacked," said Lieutenant Pensal, who was at the science station. "How else could he be badly injured?"

"Could it be that even at the last moment someone tried to keep the girl from sailing away?" James Hamilton mused aloud.

"Mr Hamilton, that may be the closest reason for why Mr Chakotay has been injured. But rest assured that we shall be informed as soon as Mr Paris is ready to report on his progress."

"Thank you, Commander."

A second later his commbadge beeped.

"Torres to Commander Tuvok."

"Bridge here."

"I am happy to report that I've received a communiqué from Starfleet. Phoebe Janeway-Kente has been restored, as well as her three month old baby daughter. They commend us on our successful mission."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Tuvok out."

Tuvok sat down in the chair again. It was good to know that everything was falling into its proper balance again. Commander Chakotay would be happy to know that the Captain's sister and baby daughter were well. He had not slept for more than twenty four hours and he would remain awake until he was assured that the Captain and Commander Chakotay had recovered properly from their ordeal. He would remain on the bridge until such time as either Commander Chakotay or Captain Janeway assumed duty. Mr Neelix, when he exclaimed so vociferously about being alive, echoed the sentiments of the rest of the crew. Many had shared with him or with their friends about how empty they felt that everything Captain Janeway had meant in their lives was wiped out when she ceased to exist. It stood to reason. If she vanished, even their destinies might have changed.

He, too, felt whole again.

Kathryn awoke with a jerk. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Only, she didn't know what it was. Her heart raced in painful breathlessness again. She sat up on the couch, running her hands through her hair. She felt dizzy, and when she tried to stand up, fell back again. Waiting only a minute to breathe evenly she got up, this time able to stand up straight. She hit her commbadge and realised that it wasn't pinned to her.

"Computer, what time is it?" she asked as she moved as fast as she could to the holodeck doors.

"Fifteen hundred hours."

"Computer, locate Commander Chakotay."

"Commander Chakotay is in sickbay."

She cried out in pain and slumped to the floor. Rising to her feet she opened the doors of the holodeck. The whoosh of air in the corridor revived her somewhat, but the erratic thudding of her heart against her ribcage kept relentless marking a pendulum out of rhythm. She walked to the first turbolift that could carry her to deck five. The corridor was mercifully empty and so was the turbolift when she entered. She had no wish to meet with any crewmember right away. Chakotay was in sickbay, most likely injured. Or it could be Rollins or Gilmore.

"Computer, state Commander Chakotay's condition."

"Commander Chakotay has stopped breathing."

"Oh, God..." she whispered as she hurried down the corridor towards sickbay.

She was breathing hard as she entered sickbay, seeing the commotion around the main biobed instantly.

"Chakotay!"

"Captain," Marla Gilmore cried as she swung round. Marla's eyes were red from tears shed. "We tried, Captain. We barely made it to Captain Braxton's ship. So much courage..."

Marla was dressed in the fashion of the late 19th century, so was Magnus and so was...Chakotay. Marla's dress was also spattered with blood.

The doctor glanced up as he noticed her.

"We'll get him back, Captain, don't worry. The knife shredded his heart, and one of his kidneys was severed. Mr Paris, get the others out of here. Yes, Mr Neelix, you too. You've recovered from your fainting spell an hour ago."

She wanted to cry. Her body must have picked up Chakotay's distress the moment he was beamed to Voyager. He looked weak, but was breathing now. Tom quietly shooed everyone out of sickbay.

"You can report to the Captain when she's ready, and not before that, okay?" she heard him say as they proceeded to leave. They were the last persons with Chakotay, had probably been with him when he was felled.

"Wait! Magnus..." she called as the others were leaving. Magnus turned and walked back to her. His eyes looked sunken and he appeared deadly tired. He also looked like he didn't want to rest. "How was he injured?"

"We were watching Kathleen as she stepped on the deck of the _Britannic_. I guess we didn't notice until it was too late. A man stabbed him from behind. It happened so quickly."

"Braxton?"

"Captain Braxton's quick thinking saved his life," Rollins said. "He has only emergency medical supplies chiefly because he makes time jumps in a matter of minutes or a few hours. The ship does have several stasis chambers; at this point I cannot tell you what the purpose is, except that it saved Commander Chakotay's life

"Thank you, Magnus," she said gratefully, watching him leave. When the sickbay doors closed behind him, Kathryn turned her attention to Chakotay.

Tom had pulled up a chair and she sank into it. Chakotay looked pale and she thought how only the day before she had lain on the same biobed.

Kathryn held Chakotay's hand in hers. His shirt and undershirt had been removed and lay in a heap on the floor. She thought absently that one of the crewmen assigned to sickbay would put it in the recycler. The blue hospital issue gown contrasted sharply with his pallid features. She touched his tattoo, held her fingers there for a brief moment before removing her hand again. She had been so totally afraid yesterday. It was almost an irrational fear as she saw him recede. She hadn't wanted to lose him, and that fear overrode the other, that she might be dying and didn't know why.

She had loved him for so long. Her reticence to reveal her feelings had been based mostly on the fact that their friendship was an extraordinary one. She would die for him, would lay down her life for him, just as he would do for her. Theirs had been a rollercoaster ride for eight years, full of ups and downs, the downs so gut-swallowing painful that only her supreme faith in their friendship could withstand them. The many highs could be counted in their joint ventures, their collective joy in a successful mission, of dancing together on Valentine's Day as the crew desired, of opening the New Year celebrations with a thoughtful reflection on their achievements, remembering those who had died in the line of duty, commending crewmen for meritorious service. Then they had laughed together, toasting in the new year with great hope that they were another year closer to home. Always home, the final destination. She sighed. The downs included Seven of Nine's resurgence into his life, the knowledge, the fear that Chakotay would leave her and choose the austere former Borg.

How could they know she had seen Seven of Nine leaving his quarters that night, a year ago? She hadn't wanted to say anything, but Chakotay's hand covering hers on the bridge early the following morning, his inimitable dimpled smile she knew he reserved only for her...the assurance of that smile...had made her heart soar with hope again. She had known then that whatever happened that night, Chakotay had done what he thought was best for him and for Seven of Nine.

A week ago when she had looked up at him and told him "I love you", it had been simply a continuation of her thoughts, of coming to a quiet resolve that she wanted to make history with this man. She wanted him by her side forever, as her moral compass, her challenger, her lover, her beloved. She had no regrets about wasted years, because those years were not wasted. They were spent celebrating friendship first; now that friendship would be cemented by a unique union.

"Captain, I've completed the procedure," the doctor's voice intruded on her thoughts. "Commander Chakotay is fine now. I can wake him - "

"No... Don't wake him. Transport us to the holodeck. I think Commander Chakotay will appreciate waking up in a furnished room..."

"Captain Braxton is still with us, Captain. He has asked to see me once Commander Chakotay has been treated.

They were transported to the holodeck, with Chakotay lying on the couch. She smiled inwardly; he was sleeping peacefully. Covered by a replicated mohair rug he lay snug while she seated herself on the easy chair the doctor had sat in earlier. It pleased her to watch him while he lay sleeping. The fear of yesterday that she was going to lose him forever slowly receded. She lay back against the soft headrest, thinking about the many questions she wanted to ask him about Ireland, his impressions of the place, and most importantly, about Kathleen O'Clair. Once she had told him a little of Kathleen, when they were still on New Earth, and she remembered saying that the Janeway women were remarkable women. Kathleen was no exception. Chakotay, Magnus and Marla had seen this woman close up and she felt a great envy that they could meet Kathleen and protect her at the same time.

She was still tired, so she closed her eyes. Just a short nap, she thought as she drifted away into sleep...

Kevin Braxton looked at the remaining occupied stasis chamber, touching the glass panel through which he could see the face of Michael Sullivan. The moment the away team had hailed him, he had known there was something wrong. The connection had been made already, as his data showed, and everything in the universe of the Alpha Quadrant and the Unified Federation of Worlds which comprised the entire Alpha Quadrant fell into place again. The world, in a manner of speaking, had righted itself on its axis.

Michael Sullivan was beamed on board his ship the second after the away team was beamed up. He stood on the floor panel and with a look of total surprise on his face which registered only briefly before Braxton applied the hypospray and disabled him. Then he had ordered Magnus Rollins to help him place Commander Chakotay in the stasis chamber first.

"But he is injured, Captain!" Marla Gilmore shouted in outrage. "Is there nothing you can do for him?" The young woman had been in tears and Rollins looked ready to beat him to a pulp. What was it with these Voyager officers?

"Don't worry. This is actually helping him. In this state his injuries are arrested, and he'll be in better hands once he's on Voyager."

They had seemed to calm down, although they couldn't quite accept Michael Sullivan's prone form.

"What are you going to do with him?" Rollins had asked, a not unreasonable question. The villain had single-handedly polluted an important timeline.

"Stasis, like the Commander. Come on, help me get him into a chamber."

"But, Captain, can you take him with you? To the 29th century?" Rollins asked again.

"Don't worry. We'll send him back. Now, no questions. Please take your seats."

"But, why take him to your time? He's just a common criminal..."

"Mr Rollins, ask yourself why Michael Sullivan came back to finish his job. If he couldn't get Kathleen O'Clair, why target Commander Chakotay and not you, who beat Sullivan up in the first place? You can ponder on that thought the next two hours."

The two had been reluctant to secure themselves in their seats. Marla's dress was bloodied, and so was the shirt Rollins wore. But his words had subdued them, and he knew they were turning over events in their minds, trying to arrive at solutions. More he couldn't tell them. He had to see the doctor. In Voyager's continuum, almost two hours later, he was relieved to beam Rollins and Gilmore to Voyager's sickbay.

Now he was ready to beam over too. There was a man he had to see. The EMH had not been particularly gracious to him, but he had been over-taxed, over tired and angry at the time. It was a good thing too that the EMH had wiped the floor with him. It brought him sharply back into focus and the urgency of restoring the Captain's timeline. His people would be glad. His mission was successful.

He looked at the comatose Michael Sullivan and shook his head.

"We had a hard time finding you. If it hadn't been for Voyager's resident Borg, it would have taken longer..." he murmured to the catatonic Sullivan. "We'll deal with you. You wait here," he said with a low chuckle. "I'm off to see the doctor."

The next second he was in sickbay.

"Well, Doctor, I've requested to see you. I hope we're secure here."

"We are. The crewman with a cough and a sneeze will have to wait."

"Good. I have no hard feelings over your drubbing of me yesterday, Doctor."

"I'm happy to hear that. I was only concerned about the Captain's recovery and her continued command of this vessel."

"That is what I want to see you about," he replied as the doctor led him to the small office at the rear of the sickbay. In the office he sat down, facing the EMH who had 'curiosity' written all over his face. He had to give credit to the creator Zimmerman for these holographic interfaces. Now, Zimmerman's work had been improved upon a hundredfold, but the doctor didn't need to hear how holographic interfaces were used in the 29th century, or just how far they'd advanced with that technology. Voyager was a legend. Its command team was a legend. And every young cadet knew what an ego Voyager's legendary doctor had.

"Captain, before you say anything, I must thank you on behalf of everyone on Voyager for your help. We were banking on you to respond to our hails."

"And if I tell you that I was on my way here anyway?" Braxton asked, smiling. The doctor's eyes widened, then pinned him as understanding dawned in them.

"Captain Janeway is far more important than we realised," he said softly.

"Not on her own, Doctor," he said cryptically. "But I need from you a solemn undertaking as the ship's emergency medical holograph and as Chief Medical Officer, in a matter of extreme confidentiality."

"If you're going to tell me something you shouldn't, Braxton, I'd rather you follow your Temporal Prime Directive."

"That is why I can impart the information to you, in the knowledge that you will protect such confidentiality."

"Has it happened that way?" the EMH asked.

"Indeed."

"Then tell me what you want to impart."

"Here's 'why' the timeline was polluted. By the way, you are to be commended for that synapses mask. That was quick thinking." He wasn't going to tell the doctor that they had used and improved on many of his medical breakthroughs.

"Thank you."

"Now, I have on my ship a certain individual who was responsible for the pollution. This was no accident, Doctor. We have been following Michael Sullivan's trail for a while. When Seven of Nine's subspace hail came, I knew instantly where to look and it facilitated my efforts at catching the culprit and restoring matters."

"Why is it so important?"

"Kathryn Janeway and Commander Chakotay will marry tonight, before you enter the orbit of Ankares IV."

"Naturally, I shouldn't ask how you know that."

"It is her continued line that impacts in my time, Doctor."

"I knew it! And only if she marries Commander Chakotay."

"No one else, otherwise her line veers off on a tangent."

"But it's more than that."

"Yes. The Unified Federation of Worlds is at war with the Beta Quadrant. Our only ally is the New Klingon Empire, comprising many more worlds than in your time. The Grand Alliance is formed because they have faith in only one man, and will engage in talks with only that man. He is the President of our Federation. All other treaties that follow are designed to protect the Alpha Quadrant and the NKE."

"But when things go wrong," the doctor continued for him, "by the hand of one Michael Sullivan, the Unified Federation of Worlds is vanquished in war."

"By the NKE, in alliance with the rest of the Beta Quadrant."

"Didn't you just say that the New Klingon Empire wanted to negotiate only with your President in order to stop the war?"

"Who vanished into thin air minutes before the talks. We're at war, Doctor."

"Who is the President of the Federation?" the doctor asked, but Braxton could see the answer already in the EMH's eyes. He just needed confirmation.

"President Edward Adam Janeway. Need I say more?"

The doctor hid his surprise well.

Braxton knew what the next question was going to be.

"How does Sullivan fit in here?"

"He hated the President. The man's daughter rejected him, and with good reason. When he threatened the daughter with her life, the president had him imprisoned. I'll not go into details here, suffice it to say that Sullivan managed to escape and wanted to take revenge. If he couldn't get Kathryn Eileen Janeway, he figured he could erase her entire line, so nobody else would get anything. As a result, we were at war. The situation has now been corrected and thankfully, the President lives, his daughter lives and all is well with the universe. We're very strict with time travel and time criminals, Doctor. Michael Sullivan will be duly punished."

The doctor looked at him with his familiar frown, the severity of the situation too clear in his eyes.

"Captain, you can be assured that these details will not be divulged. But I must tell you that Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay will demand some answers here, and they will know about Michael Sullivan. They'll want to know why."

He scratched his head. He had forgiven Kathryn Janeway for that 1996 mishap. She did look good in the white pants suit with her dashing first officer equally at ease in his casual gear. They made a good couple. A brilliant couple. Even better than her forebear Kathleen Eileen O'Clair with her Edward Janeway, better than Shannon O'Donnell and her Henry Janeway. Feeling tired, Braxton blinked several times. He'd better get out of 2379 before he ceased to exist or, heaven forbid, remained another thirty years in this time. Time travel was giving him a headache. The doctor's eyes were still on him, waiting.

"You can tell them that their union will resonate right into the 29th century, and that's the truth."

"Michael Sullivan?"

"Do you know how many thousands of individuals we have who are in permanent stasis? I can tell you, since the rest of the away team has seen Sullivan, it will come up in their reports. You tell the command team nothing more, Doctor. Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay are both too astute not to make their own deductions."

"True."

"Well, it's been a hell of a ride jumping almost a thousand years into the past to save one woman, Doctor, but it was worth it. Exceedingly worth it. You can tell the commanding officers that from me."

He got up, shook the doctor's hand and, one tap of his commbadge, he was back in the familiar environs of his own ship. He took one last look at Voyager, the legendary plucky little Starfleet vessel. The name 'intrepid' was a fitting name for its class. What could he tell them about their future? That they'd be home in six weeks? No. Let them think they still had twenty two years to go. He sighed and looked at his controls.

"Computer, engage co-ordinates AlphaWarp 05112879."

END CHAPTER SIX


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

He was lying on something soft and covered by warmth. Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to think where he was without attempting to lift too heavy lids or face the light that might blind him again. His body felt depleted of all energy, yet he sensed wakefulness, a coming to the surface from somewhere dark and deep and fearsome. He had dwelt there, lived a thousand years, lived a thousand lives. He had encompassed the universe, but it was time to let go of the darkness.

Did something touch him? Like a soft feather that gently drifted on his hand and reposed there briefly before lifting again? It journeyed through his body, his tired body, touching the tiredness and willing it to life again.

He opened his eyes slowly, feeling pleasantly lethargic. A vision came into view, a vision in uniform, in the red of command with four familiar pips along her collar.

"Kathryn..."

"Welcome home, Chakotay," she breathed softly. Kathryn was real and smiling at him. He stood up, testing the ground, finding his equilibrium.

Kathryn stood up too and floated into his waiting arms. Close, he held her, so close to him. Her face was buried in his chest and he smelled her hair, caressing the silken strands. She was real, his heart sang. Real, for how could hair smell so like golden apples and skin feel like soft clouds? The warmth of her breath soaked into his skin as she raised her face to him. Her lips were parted, apprehension and joy in her eyes and the familiar Kathryn Janeway fearlessness that supplanted the apprehension. A blinding flash. He was back in Ireland, looking into the eyes of a young woman, a woman who looked scared, who lost her fear as soon as she laid eyes on him. Another flash... Kathleen touching his tattoo as he removed his cap. Kathleen with bruises on her neck, on her lips. Kathleen who hooked her arm through his with so much trust. Kathleen whose hand rested like a dove of peace on the palm of Edward Janeway.

"You are crying..." she whispered as her fingers traced the tears on his cheeks. He hadn't known that his tears flowed, unable to cleanse him from the suffering he'd seen the poverty, the destitution, the degradation. Hands in Kathryn's hair, remembering, reclaiming the present, wonderful, painful present. Once an illusion, now every smell, every strand of silk so real...so real...

"I thought I would lose you forever, now that I've found you," he murmured into her hair.

"And I was afraid, like I have never been."

"The last thing I remember was a pain in my back and Rollins shouting."

"They saved your were kept in stasis until they could beam you to Voyager..."

He held her away so that he could feast his eyes on her face, her smile that hovered like raindrops about to lose their and plunge, plunge to earth. His thumb grazed her lips. He closed his eyes again, and saw another face, another mouth ravaged by a madman...

"I would have left no stone unturned for you, Kathryn."

He sat down on the couch and pulled her on his lap, where he held her close to him. She touched his face, tracing the marking on his brow.

"Tell me about Kathleen Eileen O'Clair..."

He realised something. He had seen the woman who would perpetuate Kathryn's line. Kathryn had never seen her... It was a gracious moment, one in which he felt humbled by another whose inner strength waited to be tapped.

"She was like you," he said. "She even looked like you. It was a shock, the first time I saw her. You cannot know how like you she is..."

"Maybe I do know. Her blood flows through me. The tie that binds us is also a golden thread of knowledge past, present and future..."

"Why do I tell you then?" he asked, smiling.

"Because, Chakotay, you have seen her."

"She was incredibly brave, Kathryn," he started, feeling a lump forming in his throat again. "So brave. She was to have been married yesterday..."

"Like us," Kathryn breathed.

"God forbid that she marry the wrong man. When I - I found her..." He paused, and closed his eyes a long time. There was again a prick of tears and he clenched his jaw, hardly realising that his fingers dug into Kathryn's arm. "A man - her fiancé - was about to - to violate her, and by the looks - " He broke off again.

It was quiet in the holodeck. Was it his breathing he heard? Or did Kathleen's cry for help echo to the present again? Kathryn pressed closer to him.

"The wounds must cleanse, my love..."

"I know..."

"Bleed, Chakotay, it will be your reprieve..."

"By the look of her he must have hurt her the previous day, this Justin Riley. Her father too, Kathryn. They didn't spare her. In the room at the inn where she and Thomas Kiernan stayed, I found an undergarment belonging to Kathleen. The blood streaks suggested she had been whipped, and that there were open wounds on her back..."

Kathryn shuddered violently and buried her face against him.

"I found them in an alley. There were onlookers... Riley was battering her and she looked so afraid... She cried for help, you know. No one helped..."

"What did you do to Justin Riley?"

"I beat him to a pulp and left him in the alley where the onlookers probably robbed him of his clothes and money... I wanted to kill him, very badly."

"But you couldn't."

"No."

"Kathleen?"

"She wondered about me, I think. Glad too, that I could save her from that despicable Justin. We couldn't reveal ourselves; Magnus and Marla had to call me Charles, or Charlie."

He felt how Kathryn sucked in her breath.

"Charles..."

"It fell like golden drops from her, just like when you say my name..."

"I told you the Janeway women were remarkable."

"Kathleen was definitely ahead of her time, Kathryn. A contrary, just like you once told me. She didn't fit in with her family, or their perception about the place of women in society. It was a hard life. A very hard life. She had to leave, to find herself. Know what Thomas Kiernan said of her? He said Kathleen O'Clair was an eagle that deserved to spread its wings, to climb the skies and look down on the world to see its rights, its wrongs, its justice and injustice, and tell the world about it. And then...the journey across the Irish sea... Conditions were harsh for the emigrants. We were on a ship where they cared more about the cattle they were ferrying than the people who had to remain on the deck. Was it because they thought emigrants were selling their country out and therefore cared so little about them? Is it so bad to look for a better life elsewhere? It rained that day; there was a storm at sea. I wanted to take off my jacket and hang it round one of the children... Only, I found I had already done it and that one jacket was never going to be enough. Magnus and Thomas Kiernan had done the same. A child...a baby... cried all the time. I think it was sick. I felt helpless and angry. Kathleen and Marla were in a cabin. You should speak to Marla, Kathryn... She will need your comfort. Kathleen's injuries distressed her. When we had to disembark, I found the two of them curled up in sleep on the narrow bunk, but Marla had been crying...

"We take so much for granted here. We're shipwrecked in this quadrant; we face many dangers, we've often been so low on supplies when we prayed we'd come to a planet that would be willing to trade. Still, life here on this ship... we have luxury unimagined by the Kathleens who had seen so much social inequality. Poverty is something terrible...something terrible... You see children, their eyes sunken and empty, their cheeks hollow and pale from hunger and you see...you see how lost they are. You see some of them with no hope, then you see others who hope for a better life, who have vision.

"And Kathryn...we knew some of them would never make it to the New World. They're seduced away from the ships by smart crooks who sell unsuspecting young girls into prostitution, who prey on the helpless, the poor fleecing the poor. I saw a girl being lured away... There was nothing I could do... What was this world we entered and had to leave behind? Kathleen O'Clair was lucky. Thomas Kiernan was lucky...The world was waiting for him to discover it, just not in Ireland..."

Kathryn's hand touched his cheek. He felt how wet it was, from tears that burned and cleansed.

"It was 1899, and we know from history that poverty, sickness, deprivation of the soul, physical abuse of women, war time atrocities, torture, maiming, the wilful crushing of the human spirit didn't end there... It continued for centuries; in one century alone it produced tyrannical rulers, and dictators too evil to contemplate. Kathleen O'Clair made it to the New World... From the little I've learned of her, I don't think she stopped fighting, stopped being a champion for the downtrodden, stopped learning..."

"No, Chakotay. She never did. She was a journalist and writer and fought many social issues."

"And Kathryn, we knew that the moment she touched the hand of Captain Edward Janeway right there on the deck where he welcomed all the new passengers personally...that moment, you became alive again. Then, I was in a hurry to get home to you and tell you..."

He fell quiet at last...lost in thought about being back in Kathryn's arms, feeling how real she was, that her smile, her concern, her tears, her smooth cheeks were not illusions. Kathryn stirred in his arms. He pressed his lips against her hair. She slid off his lap and stood facing him, holding her hand to him.

"Come, let's go. We will celebrate not only our union, but the courage of Kathleen O'Clair-Janeway. There is something I need to tell you about Kathleen O'Clair. Something that would have been missing because I ceased to exist for a few hours..."

"What is it?"

"A book."

"I need to change into uniform first..." he said, smiling a little sheepishly as he looked at his hospital gown and slippers.

Kathryn paced her lounge, waiting for Chakotay. A smile played around her mouth. It was still afternoon, and there was time to read the reports from the doctor, as well as speak with Magnus Rollins and Marla Gilmore. On their way here, Chakotay had mentioned how Kathleen had been the first to notice the looks Marla gave Magnus. It wasn't that she herself was unaware of the little undercurrents of romance on her ship. With his history of personal tragedy, Magnus didn't look like he wanted to engage in the energy of being in a romantic relationship again, or make himself vulnerable to another being again. Who knew? This mission might just have turned the tide a little in Marla's favour.

Chakotay took longer than she had anticipated. But he wanted to shave and wash the salt from his body. It had been great to be on Earth again and feel the real rays of Earth's sun, her rain, her clouds, see her people, he told her, but all the time he had been fraught with the worry that they might not make it back in time. He had only felt the two hard knocks against his back, turned and heard Marla call a certain name. After that the darkness swallowed him. She thought how he looked at her when he woke from his surgery, as if she were something unearthly. If she thought about it, for a time she was something unearthly.

From Magnus she would get a full report on Michael Sullivan, the man who had tried to abduct Kathleen and stabbed Chakotay, critically wounding him. Strange, she had chosen that name for her holographic companion in the New Haven programme. None of them were Chakotay... She had been foolish then. Lonely and foolish. She would forever be grateful that Chakotay waited. He had greater faith in his own constancy than she had. For that alone, she would love him forever.

Tonight they would marry. They could not delay it a single minute longer. She wanted to lie in his arms for the first time, join her body with his, become one...

She stopped pacing the second her door chimed. When he came in, he looked so familiar, so beloved, that her eyes stung with tears. She gripped the book tighter as he stepped up to her, pulled her in his arms and kissed her lingeringly. Waves of pleasure coursed through her body, making her press closer to him. She was breathless when the kiss ended.

"You wanted to show me something, Kathryn..." His voice was so dear. The panic of yesterday overwhelmed her briefly. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him again just to feel how real he was.

She led him to her couch and they sat down. Then she placed the book in his hand.

_"I'll take you home again, Kathleen_ by Kathleen O'Clair-Janeway..." he read, then looked at her in surprise.

"When I ceased to exist, this book and all other works by Kathleen O'Clair did too. I replicated this copy just after we returned from New Earth - "

"New Earth..."

She saw the flash of pain cross his features. He remembered, like she was remembering. Even there, she turned him away...

"I'm sorry," she murmured, "that I hurt you..."

"Hey, it is always worth waiting for a Janeway woman. When Edward Janeway held Kathleen's hand in his, it seemed that he had been waiting for her all his life. Besides, I've always known this day would come."

"That makes me feel better."

"Tell me about the book, then."

"When we walked from the holodeck you told me when you said goodbye to Kathleen, that she looked so sad to leave Ireland. As if she didn't want to go but understood that her destiny had a different path for her..."

"Yes. I thought about that haunting melody then. I thought about how we wanted to go home..."

"This book is her memoir, of how she met three incredible friends, of the brave woman who was her mother, of the man who became her husband, of her children, and..."

"And?"

"How much she missed the country of her birth. She never stopped yearning to see the shores of Ireland again."

"Did she go back?"

"Edward Janeway himself took her to visit Ireland ten years later. It was a surprise gift, the trip to Ireland, and she indicates here how she loved him a hundred times more than ever before. This book speaks of that love, how she was always certain that one day, she would marry the man who stole her heart. Her sisters were not so lucky..."

"Her mother?"

Kathryn smiled. "I think you'll have to read it yourself, Chakotay, if you wish to learn more of Kathleen O'Clair."

"She was a truly remarkable Janeway woman, like someone I know."

"It's how I know...I feel it here..." she said with conviction as she placed her hand against her bosom, "that we'll be home soon..."

"For that, you deserve a kiss."

"And tonight, we're to dress in the same clothes as this wedding picture. It's a little faded, but here you can see how they were made for each other," she said as she quickly paged to the middle where there were photographs.

"I have to wear a tail suit and white cravat?"

"Oh, yes. We're celebrating our history, the present and the future."

Chakotay turned, distressed and surprised. Blood oozed from his mouth and Magnus knew that he was bleeding internally. The ship's horn blew for the third time and; slowly it moved away from the dock as the tug boat started heaving it towards the open ocean.

To his astonishment Michael had disappeared quickly. Come to think of it, how had he appeared in Liverpool so soon after them? It was too fast. Something was not right about that man.

"Come, Marla, let's get Commander Chakotay away from here." People milled about them, but they took little notice of the onlookers as they dragged the bleeding Chakotay to a secluded spot where Magnus instantly hit his commbadge.

"Rollins to Braxton. We have an emergency. Beam Commander Chakotay to the ship first."

By the time he and Marla were back on the ship - Marla was still in shock - Michael Sullivan was already unconscious on the floor. He couldn't understand why Braxton had beamed Michael to his ship.

"Help me get Commander Chakotay in the stasis chamber."

Marla had been outraged, but Braxton explained how it would save Chakotay's life if the injury was arrested. That had calmed her down somewhat. Then Braxton asked him to help get Michael into a stasis chamber.

"Why him?"

"I have to take him with us. Don't worry, I'll see that he gets back."

He had been mistrustful of Braxton's motives and could only conclude that there was more to Michael Sullivan than met the eye.

Was Michael's appearance in Dublin accidental or designed? They knew that he had been sent by Justin Riley to apprehend Katie O'Clair and Tommy Kiernan. Michael had tipped poor Tommy upside down easily and would have done more damage if they hadn't cornered the man and bundled him away to an alley where he beat the snot out of him. How he got to be on the cattleship they didn't know. Marla didn't think that he was on their ship, but on another vessel that left at the same time. They had not been disturbed at any time in their cabin.

"He must have been on another vessel, else how could he have gotten to Liverpool so fast?"

It was an issue that plagued him; it unsettled them that Michael Sullivan had tried to the very last to cause temporal damage. That could be the reason why Braxton took him with him to the 29th century.

"And that, Captain, is my report. I have it here for you," Magnus said soberly as he handed the captain the PADD. Commander Chakotay stood next to her.

"Has it occurred to you that Sullivan could be from the 29th century?"

"I have thought about it, Captain. Captain Braxton did allude to that. He told me to put two and two together myself."

"Except," Chakotay added, "that we still don't know Sullivan's motives. He may have had some bone to pick with someone in his time. Anything."

"I thought that too. We will probably continue to speculate and eventually, Michael Sullivan will become part of the legend."

"Well, you've done a very good job. Thank you, Lieutenant Rollins."

"You're welcome, Captain."

"You have your tail suit?"

"Commander? Me? Why should I have one?"

"You're to bring the bride to me. It's the Captain's request."

Magnus looked at the captain, his heart bursting with pride. "It would be an honour, Captain. A real honour..."

There were tears in Marla's expressive eyes. Kathryn could only imagine the pain Kathleen had endured. She didn't write much about the days before she left Ireland, except that her father had planned the wedding for the day of her journey to the New World, and that her mother had supported her decision. Kathryn had always wondered about that, and now, with Marla's revelation, knew that Eileen O'Clair in reality, had saved her daughter's life that day. More than anyone, she was most aware of how unequal in marriages her daughters were, and Kathleen, the contrary, had been courageous enough to brave her father's displeasure, a forced marriage, and intellectual poverty.

"She was so brave, Captain. Her back was criss-crossed with weals from the way her father beat her. And that - that Riley man. He - he..." Marla paused. Kathryn knew what she wanted to say and touched her hand reassuringly.

"You know, Marla, there will always be men who will abuse their partners..."

"That's what my grandmother used to say… We didn't see Justin Riley, but Commander Chakotay almost killed him, according to Kathleen."

"You were wonderful friends for her. I'm sure she never forgot you."

"We couldn't reveal ourselves, Captain, but she was very glad of our help. She..." Marla bit her lip, looking a little uncertain.

"What is it?"

"She reminded me of you. Not only in her looks. I'm sure Commander Chakotay has already told you about that. But she ordered poor Thomas Kiernan to walk while I had to sit next to her in the carriage. Then she invited us to travel along with her. Kathleen said we made an excellent party travelling together. I think she was afraid that she'd be accosted again and didn't want to say so. She had been very scared of Justin Riley. The men were good. The two of us stayed in the cabin Thomas had booked, and they remained on deck. We had to tell her we were visiting from London, but I think she knew Commander Chakotay is Indian. She touched his tattoo. He tried to hide it, not to look too conspicuous, but you know the Commander..."

"He'll be conspicuous wherever he goes. Doesn't matter if he tries to hide the tattoo."

"I'm glad he was the one who dealt with Justin. I don't think Justin stood a chance. Kathleen...she was deeply affected by Commander Chakotay, I think, Captain. I mean...not in that way. The man of her dreams was already standing on the deck waiting for her. But it was as if she knew that the Commander would one day shape her future, something like that. It was in her eyes..."

"I can tell you Commander Chakotay wanted to kill Justin, Marla. He was very angry at the way Kathleen had been treated..."

"Thomas Kiernan...know what he said, Captain? He told me that the way her father and fiancé manhandled a defenceless girl, he didn't feel very proud of being a man himself..."

"They were excellent friends, Marla. They remained friends throughout their lives."

"Captain?"

Kathryn was glad to see the relief in Marla's eyes, her joy that everything had ended well for Kathleen after all.

"I can tell you that Thomas Kiernan became one of the great American pilots of his day, and that he was godfather to Kathleen and Edward's firstborn child, a boy they named - "

"Charles..." Marla whispered, smiling through her tears. "She called Commander Chakotay Charles."

Kathryn smiled, feeling the warmth spread through her.

"You have done well, Marla. I'm very proud of the away team. Now, I know it's rather late, and Commander Chakotay and I never really planned on anything fancy for our wedding. I have a proposal...

He marvelled at Kathryn. It was almost the end of Alpha shift. Tuvok and Tom and Harry were on the bridge so the two of them could rest after their ordeal. But she wanted him to accompany him to the ship's nursery before the evening's events. They greeted the passing crew who stopped, gasped, then went on their way again. Tuvok had made a ship-wide announcement that Kathryn Janeway had been restored and general applause had gone up from the entire crew. Neelix had recovered from his fainting spell and through a comm link told Kathryn that, as ship's morale officer and chef extraordinaire, he was preparing a little reception for their wedding.

In the briefing room half an hour ago, she had formally thanked the away team for the work they had done and had given both Magnus and Marla a commendation to be entered into their records. Tom Paris had wanted to know as much as possible about Tommy Kiernan and had grilled Marla and Magnus good-naturedly for information.

"See? I told you we're a family of flyers. Of course, there was the odd black sheep or two..."

In the nursery, Susan Nicoletti and Mariah Hamilton, who had married Voyager's other pilot, James Hamilton were busy tending to the three small occupants. Of the three, Miral Paris was the oldest. A year old and already running around on two short legs, she was also the most active. She ran to Kathryn, who picked her up and dutifully kissed her on the cheek. Miral looked at Chakotay and scowled a little, until he made a few cooing noises. Then she graced him with a smile. Last time he had been in the nursery picking her up, she had bitten him on the hand.

He watched Kathryn with Miral. The child touched Kathryn's hair, tried to pick off the pips, then gave Kathryn a kiss and demanded to be put down again as Susan and Mariah looked on indulgently.

Kathryn moved to the other two lying in their cribs, still fast asleep. She bent down and touched each baby in turn. One was little Jamie, Mariah's son, who was only five months old. Long Kathryn stood, caressing the child's rosy cheek. Then she proceeded to the other crib - Lainey Lessing, daughter of Noah and Susan. Chakotay smiled when he remembered the day Noah had come to him to ask his permission to marry Susan.

"You should be asking the captain that, Lessing," he told the former Equinox officer.

"She'll murder me, Commander."

"Nonsense. You both dealt with that a long time ago. She'll not bite."

"I keep seeing her face that day... Sorry, I can't help it. I remember all the time."

"Then, Noah Lessing, the best thing for you to do is face the captain. At least you'll know that you've made an effort."

Noah had gone to see Kathryn and, after the interview, had looked like he was walking on air.

"I can't thank you enough, Commander," he said in the mess hall during one of the more quiet sessions.

Kathryn had been superlative and generous in her praise of Noah's work in hydroponics; the poor man had glowed when Kathryn praised him. Now, their little Lainey was the darling of the crew because she was so tiny and only three months old. Kathryn looked at Susan, who nodded almost shyly. Lifting the baby gently out of the crib, she let the child lie against her bosom and walked to him, her eyes shining as she held the baby against her.

"You're thinking of having children?" he asked, his throat thick with emotion. Kathryn looked beautiful; she looked like the captain who cared about every member on her ship. But it was something different too; her eyes were telling him a different message, something almost mystical.

"For myself, yes. I always thought of having children... But I realised too, with these experiences we've all had...you, me, Magnus Rollins, Marla, Tom Paris..." She held the baby to him and very carefully he cradled little Lainey Lessing in his arms, while keeping his eyes on her all the time.

"We never think about it, you know. At least not as part of our conscious thoughts. But children...they are our future... Did Kathleen know that her children would be a new generation that would ensure the next generation and the next...?"

"And our children," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion, "will be our future, taking us to a time we will not know."

There was a sheen in Kathryn's eyes. She looked so happy.

"I'm so happy... I want to have children...yours, Chakotay. They will be proud bearers of our unique union."

"And so very precious, Kathryn," he added. He handed the baby to Susan, and picked up Miral, who promptly wanted to bite him again. "Oh no, you don't, missy. This hand has to put a ring on a very, very important finger, little one..."

" – por- por…" Miral echoed in her baby talk.

The holodeck had been transformed into a forest glade, a replica of the glade on New Earth, near the bend in the river where he had found the large flat rock they dubbed Breakfast Rock. They all seemed out of time here. In reality it was.

Marla Gilmore and Magnus Rollins had dressed in period costume, and Kathryn had been a dream walking in white lace on the arm of Magnus Rollins with Marla just behind them. To their great surprise everyone who had been off duty and present at the ceremony was also in period costume; Chell looked every inch the Dickensian gentleman in his greatcoat, fob watch and chain. Neelix's tailsuit wiped the floor; Kathryn instantly dubbed him the Sunshine Chef. He had complained a little that Tuvok was calling him Rumpelstiltskin, whoever that was, but that was okay, as long as he didn't remain "Mr Neelix". He would call Tuvok "Mr Vulcan" for as long as he lived.

But Kathryn...

She sparkled as Magnus handed her to him.

"We went a very long way to get her, Commander, so take good care of her..."

Precisely as if he had been Kathryn's father commanding him to look well after his daughter or else.

"Don't worry, I will," he promised.

He looked around him, seeing the eager and expectant faces of the crew. Marla and James, in cahoots with Tom and B'Elanna, had arranged that those present be in costume. Since Kathryn had ordered him to wear a late 19th century tail suit with high cravat, he hadn't demurred. For her he'd do anything. Besides, they were doing it also in memory of Kathleen O'Clair, who had made this moment possible, whose love for her Edward spanned two generations. Kathryn looked like Kathleen on the faded wedding photo Kathryn had showed him.

Tuvok was the only officer in dress uniform, as even the doctor had dressed up for the occasion. It formed a contrast, a spanning of worlds old and new.

His vows came from an old poem...

_I cry your mercy - pity - love! - aye, love!_

_merciful love that tantalizes not,_

_One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,_

_Unmask'd, and being seen -without a blot!_

_O! let me have thee whole, - all - all - be mine!_

_That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest_

_of love, your kiss, - those hands, those eyes divine,_

_that warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast, -_

_Yourself - your soul - in pity give me all,_

_Withhold no atom's atom or I die..._

Kathryn had read to him Elizabeth Barret Browning's immortal poem, and her hand trembled now like a leaf in a light breeze. He knew how much they meant to her, those words. He knew how, in her own quiet moments, he had been her centre. He knew, like no other being on this ship, how much Kathryn needed him.

They both smiled as Naomi Wildman walked up to them with their rings. The young girl was clothed in a frilly Victorian dress. The moment was hallowed as he slipped her ring on Kathryn's finger. For a few seconds he closed his eyes as he felt how Kathryn slipped a ring on his finger. He was facing Kathryn, and mouthed the words "I love you" like a benediction. Then he turned to look at Tuvok.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. Chakotay frowned, wondering what the Vulcan wanted them to do now.

"I believe you may kiss the bride."

He gave a relieved laugh as he bent down to kiss Kathryn.

After that, they mixed with the crew who were present, each one wishing them well. Rumpelstiltskin waddled around serving Leola Surprise.

"Once it's on your tongue, it melts away like Ghost Breath," he promised.

Kathryn had given him carte blanche on the rations, so there were confectioneries that were actually edible. Tuvok raised an eyebrow at Neelix's yellow creation, then appeared to shake his head.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chakotay saw Seven of Nine, who had been languishing in the background, approach them, although they had seen her during the proceedings. She too had decided to dress in costume and looked resplendent and virginal in her ice-blue creation. Chakotay thought absently that Seven of Nine would make someone very happy one day. He had once thought that he could be that man until he quickly came to his senses, realising that he would wait for Kathryn, even if he had to wait seven years more. Even at that time, a year ago, Kathryn had been reticent, although he discovered that she had been devastated by the possibility of his liaison with the former Borg. One evening in her quarters she had revealed herself inadvertently when he saw the pained expression on her face after he mentioned that Seven of Nine was in love with him. He hadn't realised himself how his own tone of voice, his facial expression, the fact that the Borg had stroked his battered ego, had been a revelation to Kathryn until he saw her eyes. That had given him so much hope that he had rebuked himself for his momentary lapse. He knew then that even waiting for another year would be enough, that Kathryn would tell him when she was ready.

He had been glad that he hadn't pressed the issue with her, so that when she revealed her true feelings for him, it was unconditional, untarnished by any masks, any obstacles that might have blighted her decision to marry him. So, with Kathryn's arm hooked conformably and possessively through his, they waited for Seven of Nine. He knew that she and Icheb had done so much for their combined effort to get Kathryn back.

"Captain Janeway...Commander... May I wish you well on your marriage. Your happiness means a lot to me..."

"Thank you, Seven," Kathryn said. "It means a lot to me too, that we have the blessing of the whole crew on our union..."

Chakotay's heart filled with joy at Seven's words. She hid her feelings well, and he hoped that in time, Seven of Nine would find the love and affection and respect that he knew would come her way. Seven produced a smile, one that seemed to light up her face, one that freed the moment from its impediments. He felt Kathryn's sigh of relief and realised that she had been tense in these moments.

"I see now how it is... I see that love which is reciprocated... It is...grounding. Perhaps one day, I will know such love too," she said softly.

"You will, Seven of Nine," he said with heartfelt conviction. "you will..." he repeated as he saw Harry Kim walk in their direction to woo Seven away to Breakfast Rock... Seven nodded as she turned to look at Harry, who took her hand and led her away with the words "Breakfast Rock is a dream..." ringing in their ears.

Kathryn looked up at him, her eyes welling with tears. She mouthed the words "I love you", enfolding them in their cocoon of complete devotion.

Then they saw the doctor make his way towards them. His face looked serious.

"What is it, Doctor?" Kathryn asked him.

"Captain Braxton thought you would have some questions. He expressed his regret that he couldn't be here with us today, that duty called and that the Temporal Prime Directive prohibits him from divulging anything with regard to Michael Sullivan, save to say that Sullivan was the one who...sullied your timeline."

"I understand, Doctor," Kathryn replied. But the way she squeezed Chakotay's arm told him she was curious. She would respect it, he knew.

"Surely he couldn't have gone without saying anything else?" Chakotay asked, feeling Kathryn's disappointment.

"Well," the EMH started, "he did say to tell you that your union will resonate into the 29th century..."

"Excuse me, Doctor," Tom Paris cut in, waiting for the doctor to leave before he turned to Chakotay.

"I do believe you've wished us on our marriage already, Paris."

"Yeah, well. Here is the key."

Chakotay frowned heavily as Tom produced a key hanging on a ring that had a miniature Delta Flyer on it.

"What is this for, Paris?" he asked.

"Chakotay, it's - " Kathryn started, but Tom didn't even seem to hear her.

"I figured, since we're a day away from Ankares IV, that I'd better take my place on the bridge. Tuvok has already taken command there. I give you my Delta Flyer for twenty four hours until we reach Ankares - "

"But a key..." he mused, his brow knitting in perplexity.

"Just so you get a feel of the toggle switches and all, I've installed an ignition sequence. You must turn this key in the ignition to start up the engines."

"The Delta Flyer isn't - " Kathryn tried to get in a word.

"Take good care of my Flyer, Commander."

"Take good care of my ship, Tom," Kathryn finally managed.

"Chakotay, did you see the look on Marla's face when she caught my bouquet? She looked straight at Magnus Rollins. Rollins looked pleased as punch!"

"Yes, he was deeply affected by the knowledge of Kathleen and Edward's love story," he replied as they made their way to her quarters where they would change into more comfortable clothes. "Marla has been in love with him since she came on board."

"He shouldn't let her wait too long," she murmured as they reached her cabin and she entered her codes.

"Not after the away mission and today. I think the fever has bitten quite a few more crewmembers."

She turned into his arms, and hugged him close to her.

"I haven't given you any gift, Chakotay, but I have something here for you..."

"What is it, sweet Kathryn?" he asked, in a hurry to change and get away in the Flyer with her. He wanted her in his arms forever.

She led him to her bedroom - their bedroom now, he suddenly realised with a pang of joy that shot through him. Releasing his hand she walked to her dresser, opening the bottom drawer and taking something out. She returned with a little rectangular metal box.

"Open it," Kathryn commanded softly. Her voice sounded breathy, excited. "Please..."

He opened the box slowly and then gasped sharply as he touched the stone reverently. It looked even more worn from centuries of use. Only yesterday he had given it to Kathleen O'Clair... He felt the sting of tears, blinked several times.

"Kathryn..."

"Kathleen O'Clair-Janeway mentioned the kindness of her friend Charles, an American Indian who gave her the riverstone with its unique pattern. She always felt a spiritual connection to the man who gave it to her. Every first born son was given this stone, to be given to his wife on his wedding day. My father had no sons, so I inherited the stone, Chakotay. I couldn't tell you about it, and had to wait for this day. It's the way of the Janeway tradition..."

"Kathryn, I - " he started, not knowing what to say to her.

"I know now that you gave this stone to Katie O'Clair the day she boarded the _Britannic_. It has been in our family since then, for four hundred and eighty years..."

His mind was a blur of memories of the young woman who had stood on the quay that day, so alone and yet so unbelievably brave. Why had he taken the stone with him? Did he know that one day, it might come back to him? He didn't know, except that his faith had been pure. His hands became limp, his fingers lazy as the riverstone dropped to the floor. He pulled Kathryn into his embrace and kissed her deeply. On her cheeks he felt the dampness, on her eyelids he tasted her tears.

"I love you so much, Kathryn Janeway. So much..."

"And I love you. Not a day passes that I don't think how much I love you, and how much I need you. Every day. In every quiet moment. It's been in my heart so long. I breathe...I breathe, for you are the breath in me..."

He held her away from him, his hands on her slender shoulders, his eyes feverish as they feasted on her.

"Come, my sweet Kathryn. Let us go and make history."

_THE END_

**This, my land ****- by Kathleen O'Claire**

I wandered off to distant lands

my destiny lay there

on foreign shores I trod the sands

left footprints everywhere.

New country's blood flowed through my veins

Respected all her laws

Did visit once her grassy plains

and even fought her wars

How proud I was of golden chance

to shine in my new sun

I praised her well in song and dance

I had indeed great fun

But times that I was lost in thought

'twas not these pastures green

or canyons grand for which I sought

or 'scrapers I have seen

My heart walks back a thousand miles

where shamrocks fill the field

and jewels of the emerald isles

is all my heart can yield

O Ireland! This, my native land

I must return to you

to walk on your beloved strand

and call you 'home', anew.

**Author's Notes**

The vessel _Britannic_ - built in 1874 - was a steamship in the White Star Line and it did, indeed, sail commercially for the last time in June 1899, after which it was used to transport British soldiers fighting in South Africa in the Anglo-Boer War 1899 - 1902. In 1903 the Britannic was scrapped.

The gramophone was patented to one Berliner in 1887. In 1902 the tenor Enrico Caruso recorded the first operatic arias on gramophone.

By 1912 Southampton became the major port of departure for ships sailing to New York.

The New York Times was established in 1858 [?] and by 1899 the paper had established female journalists and reporters.

I have never been to Ireland, but I've tried my best to create the period and landscape at least a little familiar to readers. I've read extensively about the farm [and smallholding] system pertaining to

the 19th century and the arranged marriages were part of signing deals. It is reasonable to assume then that all Kathleen's sisters were "farmed" out to husbands selected for them, to ensure potential

wealth and expedience in joining of land.

Poverty was rife; girls didn't have much opportunity for education/schooling, therefore a high level of illiteracy existed.

The song, "I'll take you home, Kathleen" was written around 1867 and was one of the most popular tunes in America and Europe. I listened to a recording off a CD called "Celtic Melodies" with

James Galway playing the haunting melody on the flute.

**THE POEMS **

**1.****When will it end, dear mother of mine? - by vanhunks **

**2.****This, my land - by vanhunks **

**3.****I cry your mercy - by John Keats, Sonnet 19 **

**5.****I'll take you home again, Kathleen - by ****Thomas P. Westendorf**


End file.
